If I should die before we wake
by Summersfan
Summary: Spike, Andrew and Dana are menaced by a shadowy threat to Spike’s life. Follows the events in Deconstructing Hell. You should read DH first. COMPLETE!
1. Fuzzy dreams

Title: If I should die before we wake

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or situations, or concepts, or anything, really.

Summary: After the events described in _Deconstructing Hell_ Spike, Andrew and Dana are menaced by a shadowy threat to Spike's life. You should read DH first.

Rating: Um, gee, I don't know? The new rating system is confusing! Let's just say Teen, to be on the safe side.

Chapter One: Fuzzy Dreams

_The landscape was fuzzy, mist rising from a thousand places. Bodies, demon and human, littered the floor._

_A lone warrior with a platinum head was fighting on, a sword twirling in his hand. But the midnight black blade was fighting him, and the dark shadows moving through the mist had him surrounded._

_Worse, he was too slow, too weak. Even his indomitable spirit couldn't sustain a body riddled with holes and too human to fight on._

_Then the Slayers arrived, and he was finished. They attacked him, joining the shadow warriors, cutting him to bits._

_Then she woke up._

The worst part wasn't waking up in strange room in a strange place wondering if she was still alive. The worst part was when she actually remembered where she was, oriented herself, opened her eyes, and saw Spike.

For a moment, as she blinked and focused on him, she considered trying to kill him. That seemed better than letting him speak. But then it was too late, and he was talking.

"Good morning," he said, stressing both words carefully. "Sane today?"

She sighed, rubbing her eyes and orienting herself. Andrew was in the other room, sprawled over a couch and snoring blissfully. She could hear Illyria somewhere nearby singing about breaking somebody's heart.

Dana carefully nodded. "I'm fine, thanks for asking," she said mechanically, just the way Andrew had insisted she answer Spike's daily question. What kind of question was it, anyway? If she was having a psychotic episode she couldn't answer it. And if she just felt bad (like today) it just made her angrier.

Spike nodded. He had apparently just bleached his hair again, because his skin was pink and his hair was shinier than usual. He was wearing the wire-rimmed glasses he sometimes wore (but only when they weren't on a mission), and his blue eyes were sparkling with amusement at something. She knew better than to ask what was so funny. He never answered.

After a moment she realized he was still there, and she glanced up at him, annoyed. "What do you want?" she snapped.

He smiled, the real smile, not one his sarcastic ones that always meant somebody else was suffering. "Wanna go do something?" he asked, and she had to spend a few minutes trying to decipher the meaning of that.

Sometimes the ambiguous question meant that he wanted to talk to her about something serious. Sometimes it meant that he was bored. Sometimes it meant that something was seriously wrong (although she couldn't think what it could be right now).

"Sure," she said finally, not having made any sense at all of his statement.

Fifteen minutes later they were in a tiny mall, and he was buying them food. She stared around at the people going by.

"What's the name of this place?" she finally asked him.

"Des Moines. I think." He handed her a cup filled with ice cream.

She still wasn't entirely comfortable with the ex-vampire. Although she was the one who had asked to travel with him, several people had suggested that she keep a close eye on him to watch for signs of evil. Even more had suggested that if she harmed him her life would be forfeit.

But with regular medication, calm discussions, cappuccinos, and the occasional intervention of the Hell Goddess living with them, she was starting to 'level out.' Which were Spike's code words for 'stop being crazy.'

They sat on a little bench and quietly ate. When Spike was done he tossed his garbage in a trash can, grinning sarcastically. "I failed to litter. See that? Proof of goodness, right?"

Sometimes Dana wondered if he even had a moral compass. Had he been given a defective soul? Or maybe he had always been evil. Hadn't the others said that he earned the nickname William the Bloody before becoming a vampire?

"Sometimes that lot back there bores me," confided Spike. "Andrew's okay. Grown up a little. And Illyria's more'n decent. But they both want something epic and noisy. He wants a comic book, she wants the world to make sense. Only person here who can actually just sit down and have an ice cream is you."

Dana wondered if she was supposed to reply to that.

Spike leaned back on the bench, shifting to face her. "Connor tells me that you got upset with him last week when he called."

Dana had wondered how long it would take for that to come back and bite her. Connor and Spike talked endlessly to each other, and she knew that yelling at one was as good as yelling at the other.

"I'm just tired of you two trying your amateur psychology on me," she mumbled self-consciously.

Spike barked a laugh, leaning back with a smug look on his face. "He was getting to you, wasn't he?" Dana flushed. It was true that Connor was quicker than she was, a veritable Socrates at the debating table. And she often got frustrated with him.

It didn't help that he was right all the time. She couldn't stand that.

"A little."

"Well, get used to it. He used to get to me all the time, and I didn't even have powers."

The implication that somehow Dana's mystically strong muscles equalized the mental imbalance was entirely false. Connor was also incredibly strong, at least as strong as her, if not stronger. And Spike was stronger still, these days.

"I had a Slayer dream." She was desperate to change the subject now.

"You're sure?" Spike wasn't taking it seriously, his eyes continuing to scan the sparse mall.

"You died."

That got his entire, undivided attention, along with a scowl. "That would be number four, if you're counting," he said, a sharp edge to his voice. "And it doesn't get any better the more I do it. What did you see?"

Dana struggled to get it straight. It was confused, just a little, with images of Spike fighting Buffy, Nikki Wood, Faith, and another, Chinese, Slayer. She knew those were Slayer memories, and tried to mentally put a wall between the vision and the images of him killing Slayers.

"There were demons. You were fighting them, winning. Then Slayers came, and killed you."

Spike swallowed. "Well, if a bloke has to go, what better way to go?"

"And you didn't have any powers."

"Oh, swell."

Dana wondered sometimes if Spike ever explained himself to anyone. She never saw it, if he did. He just wandered around making vague pronouncements and doling out violence, although she suspected he was capable of clarity, if he needed it.

Spike was biting his lip. She stared at the weary lines of his face, the tight smooth cheekbones, and wondered just why he fought so hard. It seemed sometimes that he was trying to get himself killed, except that he fought so hard to live.

Was it guilt driving him? She never saw any other sign of guilt.

A tall brunette strolled over and sat down. It took Dana just a second to realize it was Illyria, in her non-God appearance. She rarely took it, except in public places, which they didn't frequent anyway.

"I sensed your distress," she said, her tone honey, despite the words. She was working on sounding more human, and it really wasn't working. Dana wondered why she even bothered.

"Vague Slayer prophecy says I'll lose my powers and be killed by Slayers."

"And Shadow-men," added Dana helpfully.

Illyria nodded. "Then we must enlist the aid of her Watcher at once, to determine whether this is a lone Slayer dream or whether the others have had the same dream."

"What would that show?" asked Dana, curious.

"Whether Spike's thaumaturgic signature is strong enough to affect an entire world," said Illyria seriously. "If it is, then the events to come are truly terrifying. If you were the only one to see it, then we can conclude that it was your proximity to him that allowed you to see it, and that the intensity of the violence will not be as great."

Spike took a deep breath. "They'll all have seen it."

"On what do you base that claim?" asked Illyria.

"It's just my luck."

And Dana knew it was the truth. It always seemed to be the case that what happened to Spike wasn't anywhere near the middle of the range. It was always the most horrible thing she could imagine—and she had a very horrible imagination.

* * *

"The Queen of Hearts used to do nine impossible things before breakfast. Or was it the White Queen? I can never remember."

Insane ramblings were actually quite an improvement over the screams about clay and water. Barclay stopped scribbling in his notes and concentrated his attention on the prisoner, bound hand and foot and blindfolded, strapped down to the rocking chair.

"Is there a power rising?" asked Barclay.

The blindfolded figure giggled. "The dragon wakes." Then he began babbling in gibberish, hard consonants pouring out of his mouth.

Barclay sighed, glancing back at his associate. "Do you think there's any more to be wrung out of him?"

"Between the sodium pentothal and the torture, he's broken entirely." The shadowy angles of the plain face shifted in anger. "He's no use to us."

Barclay sighed. "Release him?"

The other nodded.

As Barclay rose the fourth person in the room cleared her throat. "I could be wrong, but isn't he speaking in a demon dialect?"

For a long minute they all listened quietly. "Good catch, Lucy," said Barclay, amazed. "It's some fashion of tongue, there's too much repetition for it to be babbling. Fascinating. I wonder where he learned that?"

The bound figure giggled. "Learned from the best," he assured them, his Cockney accent drawing out the word best suggestively.

Barclay recognized the warning sign immediately. "He's self-aware!" he shouted, leaping to his feet, drawing his gun as he spoke. He was a moment too late, and the vampire burst free of his restraints, striking Barclay hard across the face.

Barclay fell back, managing to squeeze off a few shots at him. They flew wide, but gave Lucy the second's advantage she needed.

The Slayer flew through the air, slamming a stake into the vampire's chest before he could defend himself. As he exploded into dust she whirled, facing the shadowy figure behind her, raising a hand defensively.

He raised a hand quietly. "No need for that, Lucy. I was merely gathering myself in case he got past you."

Barclay shifted, watching his associate and the Slayer. They were both standing oddly, ready to attack each other. "How did it recover so fast?" he asked quietly.

"I suspect he had fed recently. The rejuvenating power of the blood would give it a quicker recovery." The shadowy figure moved out of the darkness, blinking at the unfamiliar light on his flat eyes, his scales rippling. "I believe, Barclay, you had noticed a change slightly before his full recovery, a gathering of his senses."

"Yes," said Barclay, flushing. He should have recognized that as a sign the vampire was awakening from the hypnotic stupor.

"Nevertheless, the vampire did give away one thing," noted the angular lizard-like demon. "Vampires do not learn other tongues unless they must. I suspect that this means his leader is the one proficient in this language. The list of vampires proficient in other languages is very small. On the other hand, the list of other demons and humans is endless."

"Then they may be following a demon or a human," said Lucy coldly.

Barclay nodded. "Or else one of the vampires on the short list."

"Doubtful," said the tall demon, frowning. "All the vampires left on the list are on her side."

Barclay glanced at Lucy, surprised.

* * *

Andrew picked the phone up trepidatiously, dialing slowly. His heart was pounding hard, and he thought it might stop at any moment. As the phone rang his mouth went dry.

Click.

"Hi."

"Dawn!" Relief flooded him.

"Oh, hi." It could have been just his imagination, but she didn't sound thrilled to hear from him. He winced.

"We have a situation here," he said, trying to get this conversation on the right track. So that she wouldn't think he was making another needy personal phone call. "Dana had a Slayer dream about Spike's death."

Dawn was silent for a minute. "Old news," she said finally, sighing. "I've known for almost four hours. Have you figured out yet who the shadowmen are?"

"Shadow men? No, I haven't. Dana was vague about them."

"Whoever they are, they may be the trigger for the event," said Dawn, and her voice was filled with mourning and misery. "Stay right there. I can be there within four hours."

Andrew could hear Giles arguing in the background, trying to dissuade the Head Watcher from her mission. He knew it was futile. Once her mind was made up there was no turning her aside.

Andrew examined the other occupants of the room. Dana was quieter than usual, staring at Spike. Although there was as much friction between her and Spike as between the former vampire and everyone else Andrew could see that he had gotten through to her, had really started breaking down her defenses.

He wondered if Spike would really teach her to do better.

"Tell her not to bring any Slayers," said Illyria. She was in full battle armor, as usual, and was perched in the window, watching the front of the hotel they were staying in. "If it is the Slayers who are to kill him we could inadvertently trigger the prophecy by gathering them."

Spike chuckled. "I think the Bit will have thought of that," he said, glancing away. "Anybody else have a hankering for some food?"

"You don't know who the shadow-men are?" said Andrew, feeling a bit foolish.

"Spike probably knows already," said Dawn, and her voice cracked just a bit. "If he doesn't, we'll have to figure it out."

"I know who the shadowmen are," said Spike, staring at Andrew. Andrew wondered if Spike could hear Dawn, or was just working from Andrew's question to Dawn. "Bloody obvious, if you ask me."

Illyria snorted. "You refer to the demons that formerly ran Wolfram and Hart, the ones you have all but exterminated. You are illogical. They are weak, and the Slayers would not aid them."

Andrew tried to ignore them. "Hurry," he said quietly to Dawn, then hung up.

He felt a curious numbness inside. He knew that it should kill him that she was drifting away, freezing him out. But all he really felt was a little glad that she was taking the threat to Spike seriously.

* * *

"It's Spike!" snapped Dawn, leaning back against a marble column.

Giles quietly mumbled something to the Watcher-in-training nearest him, sending the young woman scurrying away in search of something. Then he looked up at Dawn from his position sitting behind her desk.

He said nothing, waiting patiently.

Buffy broke the silence. "You know, it's more than possible Giles is right and he's turned evil again. More than possible. We have to be logical about this, right? Who knows him better than Angel? And, better, it doesn't bring more than one more Slayer into the mix."

"One Slayer too many!" snapped Dawn. "In fact, I want to get Dana away from him. It's too dangerous."

"Again, you're not considering the possibility that he might actually be evil," said Giles quietly.

"No, I'm not," said Dawn. "This vision they all had wasn't about him hurting us, or anybody. It was about him dying. That's a warning from some higher power, one we can't ignore."

Giles sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "We're going into a highly explosive situation blind. And knowing Spike… well, he's probably going to ignite any situation, no matter what it is. Go to him, then. But be careful."

* * *

In the middle of the deserted parking lot the dark figure stood alone, his hands wrapped around a bloody sword. He could hear the hissing scrapes of metal dragging across the asphalt, and he tensed expectantly.

A vampire burst through the ranks, flying at him with a scream.

Lithe muscles reacted quickly, tearing the head off the shoulders of the vampire in one quick burst of action. As the body exploded into dust, cutting off his vision, he twirled in another motion, managing to strike another of the demons.

As they attacked in a group he let out a guttural howl, his body flowing through the motions of combat while his mind was a thousand miles away.

His Latin homework was easy. Just a retread from last semester. But the calculus was killing him—although fencing was a few easy credits—and the blasted English coursework was definitely not his favorite.

But his mind stayed on Sarah, his sister. And her new boyfriend.

He became aware that he'd finished the nest of vampires and he slowly relaxed, sliding the sword back into the sheath on his back. "Blast," he muttered.

Spike made it all look so easy. Protect your loved ones. Destroy evil. Go crazy if you have to, just never stop trying. Never stop fighting for what you want so badly.

But somehow it was all more complicated than that. Secret identities, families, little sisters who hooked up with guys that were all wrong for them, dangerous demons that hid out everywhere but in the places they belonged.

Connor crouched over the floor, wishing he could make sense of it all.

Then the cell phone rang.

He flipped it open. "Connor."

The quiet, whispered voice sent shivers up his spine. "Spike's dying."

Connor forced himself not to answer, choked back the words that sprang to his throat. "Who is this?" he whispered back.

There was a chuckle. "It's me. It's us. It's…"

There was a soft sound, and then the phone changed hands. Connor strained to listen.

"This is Daegstron. Who is this? How did you get this number?"

And everything made sense all at once to Connor. He remembered the name, remembered the oily-faced man. He closed the phone quickly, his heart pounding, and tried to remember exactly what the girl had whispered.

"Spike's dying," he repeated, incredulously.

He could feel his stomach roiling as those words ate at him.


	2. I don't know me anymore

Title: If I should die before we wake

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or situations, or concepts, or anything, really.

Summary: After the events described in _Deconstructing Hell_ Spike, Andrew and Dana are menaced by a shadowy threat to Spike's life. You should read DH first.

Rating: Um, gee, I don't know? The new rating system is confusing! Let's just say Teen, to be on the safe side.

Chapter Two: I don't know me anymore

Spike was sitting quietly in the dark when Dana woke up. As the formerly crazy Slayer got her breakfast she noticed him sitting in the window, staring out at the lightening sky.

"Are you okay?" she asked, approaching the leather-clad former demon. He turned, his angular cheekbones catching the dim light, making his face a nearly demonic mask.

"Fine," he rasped.

She nodded, sitting down cross-legged on the floor behind him, chewing her cereal. It was a tasteless bran cereal that Andrew bought for her, nothing like the sugary stuff he ate, or even the awful oatmeal Spike insisted on.

"I've just been thinking about redemption," said Spike quietly. She stared at him, wondering why he would think about that now. "I mean, now that heaven or hell seems so close, it's worth wondering about."

"But you're good now."

"No, not really," he argued. "I mean, sure, I fight the nasties. But I do it for me, not for the people. And maybe I help you face your demons, but I'm just manipulating you and forcing you to go faster so you can help me face mine. Everything I do is for me and the people I love."

"You protect the people you love. That's good, right?"

"Even evil people do that, love. 'Do not the tax collectors do so?' Or something. I saved the world while I was evil, twice. Both times to protect the ones I love. Both times I was through and through evil. It's selfish love, too. I didn't really want the best for Dru, or for Buffy. Proved that often enough. I wanted them happily dependent on me. That's evil."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Pure selfish love. The opposite of that is selfless love… I had a lot of time to work all this out. Selfless love wants the best for the other person. I've been wondering…have I ever done that? Been selfless?"

Dana was silent.

"It's sobering. I'm not a good person, really. Never have been. And I act like I have all the answers, but I'm just faking it. You know what I mean?"

"A little bit," she replied.

It was the big reason she was here. In Spike she had seen a kindred spirit, someone struggling to understand the world, to find their place in it. In Spike she had seen someone ahead of her, someone with clarity. Someone who could explain the world to her in her terms. So she had set out with him (and Andrew) to try to find some of that for herself.

And he was right, most often he only helped her when it made her a better warrior, someone useful to him. But she wasn't complaining, since she got the help she wanted out of the arrangement.

But it did sound very cold, catalogued like that. Both of them using each other. She shivered.

"Never did care much for redemption," said Spike. "Doing the right thing for a prize. That sucks. I kill the bad things. That's what I do. I don't know how to do anything else. And sometimes I do it for my own selfish reasons… the violence is nice. A bit of revenge for poor Fred, who they did in. You know?"

Dana did know. She killed things because it felt good, not because she really wanted to make things better for everyone else.

Spike sighed. "And now I get to die again. Final time."

"We can stop it," said Dana. Spike shook his head.

"Maybe. But if there's one thing I know that I never knew, it's how much time I've borrowed. I've lived more centuries than one should have to. I've lived past my time, and into a strange world I never could have imagined. Worse, I've outlived my own best times. Now I'm just an old man in a young man's body, stealing powers I should never have had from a person who should never have lived."

"You're a mortal, like everyone else. You'll die when you're old."

"That's what I'm saying! I am old, I just don't look it."

They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, broken only by the shrill squeal of the phone. In the other room a sleepy Andrew picked it up.

"The Dark Avenger's stronghold of justice, Andrew speaking. Who? Spike? Yeah, hold on." Andrew staggered into the room wearing a tee-shirt and a pair of boxers with hearts on them. "It's that Connor guy again. Wants to talk to you."

Spike took the phone gingerly. "Hello?"

"One of Daegstron's seers just called me, weeping about you." Connor didn't bother with greetings. "Said you were dying. Called without permission, I might add."

"Daegstron?"

"You remember? The Seer-pimp we hired to find Drusilla?" Spike barely remembered. He'd been more crazy back then.

"The one I threatened to kill if he didn't treat the Seers nicer?" he ventured, scratching his head.

"Yeah. Apparently you made an impact on them. They liked you, remember? Now one of them says you're dying."

"Slayer-dreams say the same thing. Maybe I should have kept smoking."

"Crap." The one word was loaded with frustration. "My parents are gonna kill me!"

"Why?"

"I'm gonna fail calculus!" The phone hung up.

"Connor's on his way," said Spike, amused. "Thinks he can save my butt." In truth he was a little cross with Connor, but the pride outshone that. Connor was so much better than him in every way—a regular miniature Angel, without all the excess evil of Angelus.

"Will you call Angel?" asked Andrew.

Spike pulled a face. "Not bloody likely." Despite their apparent friendliness in front of others there was a lot of bad blood hovering behind the two of them always, years as vampires, souled and unsouled.

* * *

Even without the Slayer nightmares that came, he would have known Spike was in trouble. It had been nearly three months since Spike was last in trouble, and that meant it was time.

Past time.

Angel watched Faith freaking out, watched Xander trying hard not to care what happened to Spike, and chuckled. Both of them were offended by his chuckle, but he didn't care.

"It wouldn't be right if Spike weren't in trouble," he told them.

It was true. From Dru to Slayers to Buffy to everything else the former souled vampire and presently human Spike had done, he had always had an uncanny knack for getting into trouble. Mobs and death and destruction had followed the vampire (before turning human, although the only difference Angel had seen was that now evil mobs chased him).

It was only right that someone with such talent for getting in trouble should be equally gifted in getting out of trouble.

As soon as the dark Slayer and her youthful Watcher were embroiled again in their argument about whether or not to go to Spike, Angel slunk out and called him.

"William."

"Bugger! Angel."

"I hear you're in trouble again."

"Funny, eh? I don't need your help."

"I wasn't offering. Things here are… prophetic."

Prophetic and hectic. The Tomes of Algern detailed the rise of a new power, the child of a Slayer and her Watcher, the Cyclops. He had been given a supernatural tip that it would be Xander and Faith who produced this child, a baby not quite as miraculous as his own son Connor, but equally as gifted.

A Slayer, the child of a Slayer, and the inheritor of a birthright that neither Xander nor Faith realized they were carrying. Their child would have enormous power, and would be tempted by the darkness to destroy the world.

Angel intended to be there for this child, to be the mentor that prevented this. Hard as that job sounded, it would be easier than trying to pick up the pieces later.

"Bun in the oven yet?" asked Spike. Spike, who had figured out the prophecy somehow. Angel ground his teeth.

"Not yet. But at the rate they're going, it won't be long."

Angel cursed Spike's skill at finding the truth. He suspected Connor must have helped with the bookwork; Spike wasn't the greatest with prophecies. He tended to be a bit too direct for it.

"Great. Any advice?" From Spike the question was a catch-all, the way he let Angel know he wouldn't throw it back in his face as he so often did. A signal that he actually had a brain.

"Avoid women in general?"

"Ha ha."

"Seriously, stay alive. I do count on you to have my back when things get ugly over here."

"Ooh, relationship counseling? I can do that."

"I was thinking along the lines of the two or three people out there who'll figure out about this prophecy and come after the mom when things turn bad. You know?"

"You mean when things turn right."

"I mean when they realize gentle persuasion doesn't faze me."

"Ah. Of course. I'll polish my best battle axe."

* * *

"Going patrolling, pet. Want to come?"

Illyria turned around to face Spike and Dana, frowning. "I think not. I have… other concerns at the moment."

Spike stared at her, and Dana couldn't blame him. She loved to fight almost as much as he did, relishing the violence. For her to turn down a 'spot of violence' (one of Spike's favorite phrases) meant something truly huge must be on her mind.

"All right, then, pet," said Spike. "Andrew! We're going out. Come with?"

Andrew nodded, grinning. There was something unholy in the grin, a kind of madness that even Dana somewhat envied. It was something akin to passion, the way he loved to see Spike fight.

The idolization was only one of many reasons Spike hated the other man.

The bleached-blonde ex-vampire led the way, something that amazed Dana. He wasn't a born leader, she knew, having seen his fairly abortive attempts at planning. When Connor was around he began deferring almost automatically to the younger man, as if grateful for the leadership.

But when nobody else was there to take up the mantle of leader, he stepped into the responsibility with his customary cockiness, as if it were no big deal. She knew it was a big deal, that he agonized over every little thing, that he was deathly afraid he would get one of them killed.

Even though he was careful never to show it.

"We're starting with the warehouse in the southern part of the city, then heading north to sweep the major cemeteries," said Spike brusquely, checking to make sure that he had stakes. "Then we'll hit the big bars, check for unusual demon activity."

"That's more like a mission statement than a plan," noted Dana.

He shot her a rude hand gesture, glancing to Andrew, who had grabbed a crossbow. "You watch yourself with that thing. No shooting the two of us."

"It was an accident!" said Andrew, his eyes widening. "Illyria really looked like a demon!"

"That's because she is one, ponce," muttered Spike. He glanced to Dana. "We ready?"

They strode out into the brisk night air, Dana watching out the corner of her eye to see if Spike was watching her. He did, sometimes, acting as if she was doing something wrong, just staring at her as if wondering how to fix her.

She found it incredibly annoying.

Tonight he had a distracted look on his face, and she wondered how long it would take him to push her away, to try and force her to leave. He'd soon realize, she was sure, how dangerous she was.

She'd seen Slayers killing him in her dream, and she was a Slayer. Soon he would realize.

"All right, nut-job," said Spike. "Stop staring at me. The other vampires are here already."

He had misspoken again, realized Dana with a start. He was calling himself a vampire again—he often did, when he wasn't concentrating.

She looked around, but saw nothing. She could sense them, though, and glanced to him in surprise.

"How did you know?" she asked.

He grinned, glad to have slipped one by her. "I saw one going in the warehouse."

It was always the same abandoned warehouse that caused the trouble. As they approached it cautiously Dana was surprised the feeling hadn't broken her out of her reverie sooner. "There's a lot of them!" she whispered.

Andrew shook his head. "Look at the lights," he whispered. "They're having a party."

Spike's jaw clenched shut. "Let me take a look." He darted forward and scaled a wall quickly, hoisting himself up to a window. A moment later he returned, scowling and shoving his hands into the pockets of his black leather duster, a new one he'd picked up from a mail-order place.

"There's nearly a hundred there," he said gloomily.

Andrew, to Dana's surprise, grinned widely. "I have this really awesome idea I want to try," he said to Spike.

Spike glanced from Dana to her Watcher, then back again. "Is that right?" he said skeptically.

* * *

"I'm talking about something primal, something unstoppable!" roared the tall, dark human, throwing a vampire across the room to shatter a statue.

Personally, Lilah thought he was really talking about something pathetic, something as easily stopped as an invasion of tissue paper. But she just nodded and grinned, hoping he would shut up.

"Argh!" The bellow was also pretty unnecessary, in her opinion.

"So, have you worked off the rage yet, or are you ready to talk about options?" she asked him.

She hated working collections for what was left of Wolfram and Hart. Without the nearly unlimited resources of before she was merely a wraith, with no more physical presence any more.

And nobody respected her, which was even worse.

"I'm this close to crushing all the Slayers around the world, and those vampires that destroyed you!" he howled. "And you're worried about a few souls I owe you?"

That caught Lilah's attention. "You're going after Angel? In that case, no terms. We want it all now. You're officially a bad credit risk."

He did a double take, the smooth, chiseled lines of his face contorting in surprise. Apparently he was stupid as well as having anger management issues. "Why?" he asked. Lilah just rolled her eyes and didn't answer. "Look, I don't have any souls right now! I just sacrificed my last set of minions for this powerful spell to take out the Slayers."

"Take out the Slayers?" asked Lilah skeptically. When a loser this big started boasting she just knew something was going to go wrong.

He grimaced. "I see," he said, after reflecting for a moment. "You think I can't do it."

"I didn't say that."

"But you thought it." He seemed to have calmed down now that they were off the subject of debts owed and favors done.

In truth, it was a subject Lilah had been on a lot lately. The last vestiges of Wolfram and Hart were trying to regroup and start over, and it was a pathetic sight. Together Spike and Angel had set them back to nothing, so that once more vampires were more powerful than the Wolf, the Ram and the Hart.

And the vampires weren't doing too well right now either, with the sudden invasion of Slayers. All around, evil wasn't doing so well.

"Tell me about your big, world-changing plans," said Lilah, comfortably amused.

"First I subverted the Slayer dreams so that they saw He Who Turned Back being killed by them. That was a costly spell. Then I cast another spell, one that they can't possibly anticipate."

"Oh?"

He grinned. "Tonight they'll dream that he wins, and kills them all."

"That's it? Dreams?" Lilah was sorely disappointed, causing the massive brute's temper to flare again. His vampire minions cringed back from him in anticipation as his face creased with heavy lines.

"No, it's not!" he snapped. "The dreams are easy enough to subvert. A few psychics, a spell or two. Nothing costly. Building a doppelganger of He Who Turned Back… that was costly."

Lilah felt her heart jump. A fake Spike? She was scared half to death by the thought. "You've let loose another world-destroyer on us?" she asked calmly.

He shook his head. "No, he's an ordinary vampire changed to look like the world-crusher. And gifted with a few marvelous abilities that could change the world—but that ought to be enough to give them more than nightmares."

Lilah sighed heavily. "Dare I ask why you want to do this?"

The tall, heavy-set human grimaced. "The world-crusher is just a tool in my hand for this. I want those Slayers dead—need them dead!"

"There's always been a Slayer."

"One! One little girl who kills thousands, millions, of us! One unstoppable little girl who always saves the world! This isn't an even fight any more. They're winning it, and you see it, don't you? They defeated you, didn't they?"

Lilah stared at him for a long minute. "We can't help you in any way," she said finally. "But consider your debt absolved."

"Then you do think I can do it!" he roared.

"Either you'll do it and win big, and owe us one, or else when you go down I don't want any way for them to track us down from your ashes," replied Lilah. "Choose one."

* * *

In sad and happy moments there was always a bit of a catch in Andrew's eyes, as if he actually felt the guilt of his past sins. This, and this alone, was why Spike put up with the little git.

"Explain it again," said Spike, peering into the boy's face.

Andrew nodded, the somber expression on his face never once giving way to the fanboy fervor Spike knew he must be feeling.

"You take the magic bone in your left hand, and the magic rocks in the right hand. They won't want to go together, but you have to hold them pretty near to each other. Then you say the words."

Spike nodded. He didn't need to hear the words—he was pretty good at Latin. "And then?"

"As the shape rises you cross your wrists." Andrew demonstrated. "The second incantation. Then you throw the rocks—not the bone!—at the shape. Wave the bone between yourself and it, and the third incantation. That one's important, it's the one that locks the form."

Spike nodded. "Making the formless look like what I tell it to look like. What am I telling it to look like?"

"Um, Halle Berry."

"Sod that. Uma Thurman."

Andrew rolled his eyes.

"What?" said Spike, snapping.

"Oh, sure, a blonde who knows how to use a sword? Subtle much, Spike?"

"What?"

"Listen, the golem isn't just here for looks, you know."

"Ponce. Everything's not about Buffy, you know. All right, what about that Kirsten Dunst bird? Can we make it look like her?"

"Again, blonde."

"No! She was a red-head!"

"Geek much, Spike? She dyed it for the Spiderman role."

"Oh, come on!"

"Last chance, and we're going with Halle Berry."

Spike scowled at him. "Catherine Zeta-Jones."

"Good choice!" said Andrew, grinning.

Dana watched them both suspiciously. The amount of time they spent in their pointless monologues made her suspicious. Why did it matter who the golem was crafted after? So that they could leer at an unsuspecting celebrity (or the double of the celebrity)? No, they could do that much cheaper with Pay-Per-View.

A moment later the magic was done, and Catherine Zeta-Jones was peering blankly at them.

"You are to go into that warehouse," said Spike, pointing. "Tell them you're lost. That you need help. Let them bite you."

As the golem moved off gracefully Andrew sighed. "I'd really like to be there to see it!"

"I wonder how many will fall for it before they realize everyone who feeds from her dusts?" asked Spike. "Not all of them, surely."

"Well, there's real human blood in her," said Andrew, carefully wiping clean the cut in his palm. "It should seem very real."

"Will the holy water dust all of them?" asked Dana.

"Before being diluted too far, you mean?" said Spike. "Dunno. I guess we'll see."


	3. If I knew now what I knew then

Title: If I should die before we wake

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or situations, or concepts, or anything, really.

Summary: After the events described in _Deconstructing Hell_ Spike, Andrew and Dana are menaced by a shadowy threat to Spike's life. You should read DH first.

Rating: Um, gee, I don't know? The new rating system is confusing! Let's just say Teen, to be on the safe side.

A/N: I'm a NaNoWriMo. Taking the challenge, writing a novel in November. That means there won't be ANY updates in November. None. Period. Sorry. You'll have to make do with this tidbit.

Chapter Four: If I knew then what I know now

* * *

Illyria was sitting on the sofa facing the door of the tiny apartment they all shared when it burst open and Spike staggered through, followed by Andrew and Dana. Spike was barely able to stand, wobbling, covered with blood, an aggravated expression on his face.

"I'm sorry!" Andrew pleaded, wiping blood out of his eyes. "It was my first golem; I had no idea it would happen!"

"I'm not talking to you," said Spike coldly, throwing himself down on the sofa beside Illyria.

Illyria was wearing blue jeans and a blue sweater, and although her skin was now a nearly normal pale shade, with no blue shading or mottles, her hair was still streaked with bright blue strands. She looked nearly normal.

"As I surmised," she said coldly. "The golem's natural magics were tainted by the very beasts it was designed to destroy. Such a magical design is unstable, Andrew Wells."

Andrew stared at her. "But it was such a cool idea!" he whined.

Dana sighed. "Exploding blood bombs aren't exactly the best way to kill vampires," she said to Illyria.

The former God-King of the Universe said nothing, merely yawning quietly, raising a hand to her mouth genteelly. "We have a visitor," she said quietly, allowing herself a languid blink.

Spike was suddenly filled with energy, standing upright and fidgeting with a cigarette lighter. "Dawn is here?"

"I put her in the guest room," said Illyria calmly, folding both her hands in her lap.

Dana looked between the two, wondering if they were communicating telepathically. It wouldn't surprise her. The two of them often communed that way right in front of everybody, using their psychic bonds as a way to exclude others.

But right now all she could see was tension on Spike's face. She looked to Andrew, hoping he would defuse it, but he seemed even more tense than Spike.

Between the two of them Illyria sat calmly, gazing at the blood stains where Spike had sat. "You're cleaning that up," said Illyria, still icily calm.

Spike glowered. "What's eating you?" he asked.

Illyria looked up at him. Her jaw tightened suddenly, quickly, and Dana almost took a step back. "If we continue on our current course, you will die. It is obvious."

"Bloody obvious!" snorted Spike.

The blue demon watched him, and now her brow was furrowing. "There are ways and means, pet."

Dana gave a start. Although Illyria used the word with a slightly different intonation, it was still odd to hear one of Spike's words—or the words she thought of as Spike's because only he could use them as he did—come out of somebody else's mouth.

Spike's frown deepened, and he opened his mouth, a bitter retort on the edge of his too-sharp tongue. Then he relented, the frown fading into a smile. "Like that, is it? Tired of the way all this is going, want to retire?"

Illyria tilted her head at him. "Your words say one thing, your demeanor another. You seek to goad me because you are full of fear that this final death will be the end to all you've worked for."

Spike shrugged. "After I'm dead Connor will be the only one on this plane with the power and knowledge to anchor you. Your powers and his combined should be truly spectacular."

"Your apparent fatalism is belied by the turmoil I can sense," said Illyria.

Spike sighed, rubbing his face with one long-fingered hand, rubbing as if he might scratch off the surface and find a winning number beneath, mused Dana.

She couldn't understand why he was fighting with Illyria, but she did understand what Illyria was saying. Spike was trying to look ready to die so that everyone else could watch without crying, without feeling so bad. But it was a bad act, and it tore Dana up inside.

Dana heard footsteps on the stairs and looked up. She had met the lithe, graceful woman who came down the stairs before, she knew, but she had never appreciated then the aura of command and cool assurance that surrounded the woman.

"You're not going to die, Spike. Not as long as I have my Slayers to stop it," said Dawn Summers, and her voice was so coolly commanding that Dana decided instantly that the other girl was right.

Spike's jaw clenched, and before he could stop for a second thought, or perhaps even a first, he whirled to face her. "Little Dawn the wonder-Watcher come to save the day, then? Hoorah, perhaps all her wonderful skills pushing a pencil will help where the incredible powers of darkness, light and beige have failed!"

Dana was beginning to appreciate Andrew's fanboy obsession more than she liked. Watching these two stare at each other was a wonderful thing. Both of them had a power about them, a presence that filled the room. Dana could only watch as they stared at each.

Spike broke first, looking down and away. "It's good to see you," he choked out. "I'm glad you came." It wasn't an apology, but Dana recognized that it was halfway to being one—close enough that Dawn recognized it.

"You know I've never been one for giving up," said Dawn quietly.

Spike shook his head, still looking away. "Yeah, you Summers' and your tenacity," and even though there was poison in his words he was quieter now, as if the fight had gone out of him.

Illyria was eyeing Dawn closely. "And when they dream again, what will you do?" she hissed.

"Play nice," said Spike absently, still staring at a spot on the wall blankly, as if it was of utmost importance.

Illyria stood, her face mottling with blue as her temper rose. Somehow it made Dana think of a smurf, and she barely held back the laugh that bubbled in her throat.

Illyria faced Dawn, squaring her shoulders. "I think you misunderstand," said the demon icily. Andrew was staring, apparently awestruck.

"She views you as a threat, Dawn!" yelled Andrew suddenly. "You control the Slayers and they killed Spike in the vision!" He jumped forward, grabbing Illyria by the arm to try and wrestle her away.

Illyria casually brushed Andrew off. "The dwarf has the truth of it," she muttered grudgingly. "You are the force he should fear, not welcome. You will be his undoing."

Spike sighed. "Little chance of that, love." He shook himself out of his daze, looking at Illyria meaningfully. "_Play nice._"

And now Dana knew they were communicating telepathically. Illyria's face twisted sharply, and she stared at Spike, a range of emotions playing across her face. Fear. Terror. Something very close to love. And, finally, resignation.

The former God-king of the universe stepped back, acquiescing to her high priest. "This is right, that is wrong, but there's never a sensible reason," she muttered.

Dana rocked back on her heels. She knew what Spike would say next, knew that he would launch into his speech about right and wrong. It was what held them together, he would say. The thin line they had to hold or else slide slowly into darkness.

Spike glanced almost shyly at Dawn, hesitantly. He looked down at the floor. "Too right," he sighed.

Dana was shocked. How could this slip of a girl cause him to lose that unshakable self-confidence? She knew that death hadn't managed it, but apparently Dawn Summers and all her self-assurance could.

Dawn was squinting at Spike as if she had never seen him before. "What did she say to you? In your head?" she asked, and Dana could see that Dawn was more worried about the way Spike had reacted, thinking that he was reacting to Illyria.

But she couldn't make him react that way. Even when she'd killed the man (it was his own fault; if he hadn't shot at Andrew, it would never have happened) Spike had only managed a slight sorrow, and then only with a considerable effort.

"Nothin," muttered Spike, wandering towards the stairs. "I'll be in the shower."

Illyria sat down slowly on the couch, staring at Dawn as if she were a bug. After Spike was gone she spoke again.

"He has a great love for you, but I will kill you before I will see you harm him."

Dawn stared at her as if what she'd said was somehow the best and worst thing she'd ever heard. "For Spike, you'd kill me? But would you die for him?"

Illyria sniffed. "I already did that once, and it was very boring. And it didn't work, exactly. I would much prefer the other way."

Dawn stared at Illyria, who shifted her own attention to the stain on the couch. Dana went to the closet and fetched a sponge and a bucket.

"I'll get that," said Andrew nervously, still rubbing his arm where Illyria's arm had bumped into him as she pushed him away. He took the sponge and bucket from Dana and headed for the kitchen.

"No," said Illyria. "It's not fair that you should clean Spike's mess up. He must learn to clean his own messes up."

* * *

Andrew was in agony.

Dawn was right there, the woman he loved. The woman he wanted to marry.

She hadn't noticed him, and all her attention was fixed on Spike.

Worse, Spike didn't know that he and Dawn had been together. Spike, the most viciously overprotective person he knew, who had nearly torn the head off the guy who had tried to flirt with Dana in the bar. Of course, with Dana it was different. She was a victim of abuse, and she had become very uncomfortable.

Which had nearly been enough to make Spike fly into a berserker rage.

To say he was in agony was like saying that the Hindenberg had a slight problem with the fuel mixture.

His palms were sweaty as he cleaned the couch, contrary to Illyria's wishes. He knew if they waited for Spike to clean it the couch would smell. Illyria had wandered upstairs, and Dawn and Dana were talking quietly in the kitchen.

He wondered if Dawn would just say something casually to Spike letting him know that the two had slept together and the ex-vampire would tear his head off from behind, or if Spike would just put it together with his usual inimitable intuition and tear his head off from behind.

Either way, his head was not long for his body.

"Andrew, why are you nervous?" asked a voice by his ear.

He jumped, looking back reproachfully at Illyria, who had descended the stairs behind him and was standing with her arms crossed. "Don't sneak up on me!" he begged.

She arched a bluish eyebrow. "I asked you not to clean the couch. Would you have Spike always be dependent on us to keep his house in order? That would be a great evil to put on his head. Better that he should learn. Why are you nervous?"

"Quiet!" hissed Andrew, looking up the stairs in terror.

Illyria chuckled. "Your terror is amusing to me." Then her face hardened. "Unfortunately, your terror can also mean that something terrible is about to fall on all of us because you have done something reprehensible. Will that be the case now?"

"No! No!"

Illyria moved closer, looking away from him into the kitchen. "Dawn is an extremely pretty young lady, is she not? Do you harbor perverse sexual lust for her?"

Andrew felt like he was in fifth grade again. "What?"

Illyria sighed. "I cannot seem to get the hang of your slang, your lingo. You and Spike often make jokes based on popular culture, yet mine seem to fall flat."

"Er."

"I am asking if it is her presence that has caused your nervousness, Andrew." Illyria turned back to him, icy blue eyes boring deep into him. "I have learned much from Spike in terms of interpersonal relationships between humans, but bond pairings are always confusing. You and she have shared some bond in the past, have you not?"

"Why, why do you say…? What would lead you to conclude…?"

"I am not blind, Andrew."

She was right. She had learned a lot from Spike. Intuitive leaps that baffled Andrew, the ability to read minds…

He swallowed. "I'm worried that Spike might not take well to the idea."

Illyria nodded. "This young woman meant a great deal to him. I'm not sure of the details, but it is clear that they went through a lot together. He is a protective person, overly so at times. He would kill a man in a minute if he even thought they might try to harm Dana, who is well able to take care of herself. You worry that this might manifest as violence towards yourself."

Andrew felt a flood of relief that she understood. "Yes, yes! So you won't tell him?"

Illyria gave a hefty sigh. "Andrew, you and the others here are often not completely open with each other. In my experience this invariably leads to pain and what you and Spike call 'hijinks.' I have come to care for Spike a great deal during my time here, and for Dana, and even for you. I will not tell him, but I advise you to tell him."

Andrew felt a cold shiver go up his spine at the words. Tell Spike? Suicidal.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Spike came down the stairs loudly, his hair tousled and a towel over his shoulders. He wore a tight white tee and sweatpants, and he was barefoot. "Blue, let's you an' me have a little chat, eh?" he said tightly.

Andrew felt his heart constrict. About him and Dawn? Or something else?

But Illyria simply frowned. "What have you been up to?" she asked suspiciously.

"I was just thinking, okay? And I called Harm. That's all."

"I do not trust the vampire," sniffed Illyria, looking away to the floor.

Spike hopped down the stairs and took Illyria by the shoulders, forcing her to face him. "Neither do I, but I do know her. Look, pet, you and me, we need to be smart, okay? If you want to keep me alive, you can. As long as our plans don't involve killing Slayers, I'm happy. I've beat fate before, and we can do it again."

Illyria smiled, a warm smile that Andrew had never seen on her face before. "Yes, I agree. We can keep you alive and keep them alive." She grabbed Spike into a rough hug, holding tightly onto him. Andrew could see her fingers digging into his back, and he returned the hug with equal force.

Andrew could have sworn he could see Illyria's back shaking, as if she was crying or laughing.

"Um, hey," said Dawn from the door. "I don't want to interrupt anything…"

Dana put a hand on Dawn's shoulder. "Don't interrupt. Those two are very emotionally constipated; I think we'll all be happier if they are."

Spike gave a final squeeze to Illyria's shoulders, and turned to Dawn with a smile. "Alright, Nibblet, why don't we all sit down and have a pow-wow? Figure out how to save my life?"

Dawn smiled. "Sounds good to me."

Dana scowled. "Lies and lying liars. What have you done with the real Spike?"

Spike chuckled. "Fresh perspective. Showers do wonders. You should try them, fruit-loop."

Dana smiled. Being called pet names by Spike was a rank of honor. A special treat, for her. "The shower water hates me." Everyone stopped moving and turned to stare at her. "It's a joke! Because he called me fruit-loop!"

Spike smiled. "Well, jokes. That's a new trick for you, isn't it?"

Dawn cleared her throat. "So, shall we talk about the problem? Do some research?"

"Not much research to do, pet," said Spike, sitting down on the freshly cleaned spot on the couch, pulling Illyria down beside him. She curled up next to him, laying her head on his shoulder contentedly.

Dawn's jaw clenched at the tableau, and she sat down in the chair opposite them. "You seem somewhat conflicted about actually fighting this."

Spike shrugged. "That would be because I am conflicted. I don't want my survival to be too important—I don't want to cause the Slayers more trouble. I don't want to kill any more. I've already killed far too many."

"Pun on two," said Dana, sitting down on the other side of Illyria. Andrew stayed standing, hovering nervously beside Dana.

"Pun's happen," said Spike. "Anyway, the solution has to be something that involves me just not getting into that position. If we get to the point where I'm in that position, I'm going to just let them kill me. Everybody gets that, right? We get to that point, it's finished. I don't want anybody else here killing Slayers for me."

Dana and Illyria both scowled at him. That seemed to infuriate Dawn.

"We're all working for the same goal here, Spike. I don't want anybody to die."

"Well, except bad people," said Dana, smiling. "And people who talk on their cell phones in theatres."

"Too right!" said Spike. "Bloody annoying! I mean, are they a doctor, or an undercover superhero? No, they just want to have a chat with some person! Well, death is too good for them!"

Dawn smirked. "Still working on those grey areas, huh?"

"Nothing grey about it!" said Spike. "Those blokes are evil! Out and out evil!"

Illyria straightened up. "You're getting sidetracked," she said, poking Spike in the ribs. He squirmed, and she rolled slightly, turning her back to him and facing Dana, lifting her legs into Dana's lap. Dana glanced at her, surprised, but Illyria kicked off against the side of the couch, pushing Spike off.

He sprawled on the floor, surprised. She took his spot with some glee. "Now, to business."

Spike glowered up at her. "Your concern for me overwhelms, pet." He stood up, leaning against the wall.

Dana was used to their physicality with each other. Dawn apparently wasn't, judging from the ever-stormier look on her face. "Can we talk strategy?" she asked.

"Not really," said Illyria. "The Slayer dreams were unclear as to what causes this."

"Well, I think we need to ask ourselves what Spike is doing right now," said Dawn. "What could cause this?"

Spike laughed. "The general destruction of Wolfram and Hart and my roving hero-at-large routine aren't a problem, are they?" he asked.

Dawn carefully pulled her brown hair over her shoulder and brushed it flat with her fingers. "What else are you guys doing?"

"Well," said Illyria, pressing her fingertips together in a steeple in front of her mouth to cover a smile. "We also have various sugar-fueled hijinks."

"And movie night!" added Dana.

Andrew was starting to question the sanity of his team. Dawn had a pained expression on her face, one that he could identify with all too well. "Nothing else?" she asked politely.

Spike frowned. "You grew up, pet, but I never did," he said. She looked at him, surprised. "Oh, it was all over your face. How can he be so immature? Well, I've always been, and always will. Part of my bad-boy charm. Like a little kid, and in need of nurturing, aren't I?"

Andrew frowned, but Illyria gave a little smirk and hugged her knees, watching Spike.

"I don't know what that has to do with the situation," said Dawn.

"Oh, nothing. But it has everything to do with us, y'know."

Dawn sighed. "I'm more worried about the things in your life that may be bringing us towards a place where you're my enemy, Spike."

"And that's it, right there. I'm not a grown-up, and I'm not going to get invited to the grown-ups table. And you should know that, if you don't. And that's going to be a sticking point, isn't it?"

Dawn scowled. "That's not what's going to bring you head to head with us."

"No, it's not. But it's why I'll die when we do. Now." Spike's eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms over his chest. "What do you want to know? You want to know how we track vampires? Or how Illyria and Andrew do their financial hoodoo to find surviving Dubya and Aitch branch offices so we can take them down? Or maybe you just really want to know about my government contacts."

Dawn shrugged. "Well, you've always got on with the government better than we have. Here in America, anyway. I don't really get that, since we were literally in bed with them."

"See, not so smart," said Illyria. "Even I know that sex complicates things rather than making them easier."

Dawn scowled at her. "Anyway, what else have you been doing? Seriously, I think there must be something, no matter how innocuous. I need to know every possible detail of your operations."

"There is something I think you should know," said Dana, glancing to Andrew. Illyria and Spike both turned and glared at them.

"What?" said Dawn.

Dana sighed. "Our other mission."

"That's it, Dana's a traitor. No more popcorn for her on movie night," said Spike moodily. "Let me tell it, okay, pumpkin?"

"I'm a pumpkin now?"

"The great pumpkin. Look, platelet, this one may be hard for you to understand, but it's probably the most important bit of all."

"It's not that hard to understand," muttered Andrew.

"It's just a test program!" snarled Spiked. "Nothing's come of it yet."

"The government gave us information on a secret society dedicated to destroying evil," said Andrew apologetically. "We've been trying to join them. Kind of an infiltrate thing, kind of a recruit thing."

Dawn sighed. "That might be something," she said thoughtfully. "They might have a hidden evil agenda, and since you didn't tell us we might have misinterpreted that."

"You see!" said Illyria loudly, looking at Andrew. "Openness! Honesty!"


	4. Pulpy bits in the middle

Title: If I should die before we wake

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or situations, or concepts, or anything, really.

Summary: After the events described in _Deconstructing Hell_ Spike, Andrew and Dana are menaced by a shadowy threat to Spike's life. You should read DH first.

Rating: T, because Spike is violent, rude, crude, and the bad guys are worse. Well, that's a lie. The bad guys are never worse than Spike.

Chapter Four: Pulpy bits in the middle

The small sedan tooling down the road was headed for Des Moines, Iowa, and was only a few hundred mile off now.

Barclay lit a cigarette, opening his window and holding it outside after a few puffs, letting the harsh smell waft through the car.

Lucy, riding shotgun, scowled at him. "Those things will kill you," she told him.

"Indeed," he muttered.

In the back seat the tall lizard-like demon shifted. "Actually, Lucy, Barclay has good information suggesting that he will die of a stabbing not long after his fortieth birthday. It's a prophecy."

Lucy rolled her eyes. "Right, prophecy. Like the prophecy that a vampire with a soul with become human? Only there's another vampire with a soul."

The demon scowled, harsh planes shifting on his demonic mask. "Please do not make fun of my interpretation of the prophecy, Lucy. I'm trying very hard to make sense of this all."

Barclay tossed his cigarette out the window. "Would you stop arguing? We're nearly there, and I'd like some quiet."

Lucy rolled her eyes. "You don't have to be so grumpy all the time, you know."

"The world around me is descending into chaos, there's an ex-vampire out there who may be the key to ending the world, and you want me to be less grumpy?"

"You forgot the bit about a secret society of vampires who worships the ex-vampire," said the demon.

--

After the others had gone to bed Dawn and Spike were still sitting quietly in the den, drinking hot chocolate and quietly discussing the situation.

"I don't think more Slayers is the answer to preventing my demise," Spike said dryly when she suggested bodyguards.

"There are other bodyguards available to you, and you know it."

"Ah, you mean the soldier-boy and his lot? Sorry, love… I don't trust them that much."

She was quiet for a long moment, stirring the dark drink in front of her. "You do understand what I was driving at with those questions earlier, don't you?" she asked finally.

He sighed. "No, I'm not really as dumb as I make out to be sometimes. Yes, I got it."

"Spike…"

"Look, I understand you think my relationship with Blue is what's going to cause this crisis. But you remember what I said about dying before I'd lift a hand against a Slayer? That goes for her too."

Dawn sighed deeply, letting her spoon fall into the cup and rubbing her forehead. "Spike, she's a demon. A soulless demon. Ring any bells?"

Spike managed a weak smile. "Yeah, love. Been there."

"That's not what I meant."

And if the silence between them wasn't quite uncomfortable, it wasn't quite comfortable. It stretched on, and neither of them wanted to break it with more arguing. Spike kept his blue eyes pointed down.

Dawn thought that they seemed softer since he had become human. Or maybe that was just the soul.

"It's not just because of Buffy that I don't want to kill Slayers, you know," said Spike moodily. "People are always assuming that."

"I didn't assume that."

"That's cause you're smart."

She frowned at him, surprised by the casual compliment. That seemed very unlike the Spike she had known, yet another difference that had surprised her.

When he had claimed he had changed, he was right. And it continually surprised her. It shouldn't have. Demons didn't change, but humans did. Ever since he had got the soul he had been changing, sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly.

He had been wrong, she realize with a start, when he had claimed that she had grown up and he hadn't. He had been growing up, centuries too late. He had been consciously choosing a better course for years now, and she hadn't seen it.

Spike was frowning into his cup. "I can't make it as good as Blue can. She's got a good hand for cooking. And math. Bits of Fred that she kept, she says."

Dawn felt the quiet alarm in her head going off again. "So now we're going to discuss what parts of the host she murdered your demon lover kept?"

Spike's scowl deepened. "That statement was so wrong I can't even begin to… I'll have to take these one at a time, okay?" She nodded. "One." He extended his middle finger at her. "I am not sleeping with her. Two. She never meant to kill Fred. Someone else did that. And three, … no, two covers it."

"Spike, I've got eyes, okay? I saw you two together."

Spike scowled at her. "Okay, fine. Don't believe me."

She rolled her eyes. "Why don't you try holding your breath, Spike?"

He stood up, dropping his mug carelessly in the sink. "I'm going to bed."

Dana stumbled down the stairs behind him, sweaty and disheveled. Her shirt was twisted around, and her sweatpants were riding up nearly to her knees. She was staring at Spike, a slightly disturbed look on her face. Dawn ignored her.

"Spike, we still haven't found a solution."

"The problem will still be there when I wake up," he grumbled.

Dana let out a yell and launched herself at him, knocking him to the ground. Dawn let out a shriek, surprised and shocked by the suddenness of the violent attack.

Dana straddled Spike, slamming blows down on him that could bend steel and shatter iron. "Stop it stop it stop it!" she screamed, continuing to slam blows into his skinny back.

Then he twisted, knocking her away from him with one arm that swung around wildly, knocking her back and onto her side. Then he was up on his feet, facing her, both hands raised warily, defensively. "Don't go nuts on me, fruitloop," he said, his voice surprisingly calm and gentle.

But his brow was drawn down in a deep scowl, and Dawn could see the shaking in his hands. The rage behind his eyes.

Dana came up swinging at him. He caught the blow, turning her around and immobilizing her. She struggled even harder at that, trying to get her arms free.

"Gonna hit me again?" asked Spike tightly. She responded by swinging her free arm down, aiming at his crotch. He blocked her with one leg, pushing her away from himself suddenly, sending her sprawling.

"Alright, fruit loop!" he snarled, hopping back and drawing his hands together in a nearly relaxed pose. His eyes were dark. "You want to take a shot? You want to kill me? You're gonna have to try harder."

Illyria, who had crept down the stairs and was sitting halfway down, shook her head. "I believe she has seen another Slayer vision and now believes that you will kill them, not the other way around."

"I knew it!" said Dawn, scowling. "I knew your way wasn't working! It's just making things worse."

Spike stood frozen in place, the color draining from his face and his shoulders slumping. The fiery depths of his eyes started to glaze over, and he lowered his hands. "It's not fair," he muttered. "It's never fair. Every time I try to make things right this starts to happen all over again."

Dawn moved forward, pointing a finger at Dana. "We can fix this. It's only a possibility, not a fact. A warning that whatever our first fix was, it's not working."

Illyria snorted. "There's a surprise. You should have listened to me."

Spike glared at her. "Do you see me laughing, pet?"

"Things never go your way, and yet you always seem to think you are in control. Your plans are foolish at best, yet you always make the plans."

"Would you like to do this? Be the leader?"

Dana shoved Dawn away and attacked Spike while his back was turned, knocking him down. Illyria leapt forward, swinging her body around to kick Dana, throwing her across the room while Illyria came to a halt over Spike, crouching protectively.

"He has the power within him to snap your weak body into pieces as if you were merely uncooked spaghetti in his hands!" growled the blue-tinged demon. "Do not presume to hit him merely because he does not wish to strike you in return! Do not take advantage of his goodness, or his weakness! And do not strike him again!"

Dana got to her feet, her hands tightly clenched. "He was hurting us."

"Then let him hurt you! What do I care for the plight of your Slayers? That they might die at his hands? Better than for him to die at theirs!"

"No!" yelled Spike, getting to his feet and punching Illyria. The blow was even harder than her flying kick into Dana had been, and she flew past Dana and smashed into the wall, cracking the drywall and sending pictures and plants flying as she tumbled to the floor.

"When I say no I mean no!" growled Spike, drawing his hand back as if for another blow. "Bloody stupid bint!"

Andrew came down the stairs with a cattle prod in his hands, his eyes wide with terror. "Are we being attacked?" he squeaked.

"No. Go back to bed," said Spike, his tone harsh.

"Oh. Crap," replied Andrew, darting forward and trying to tag Spike with the taser. Spike dodged the blow and slapped Andrew's face, sending the other man reeling backwards.

"Ow!" said Andrew, clutching his head.

"Don't you bloody try to knock me out!" said Spike, affronted. "Who do you think I am, some kind of ponce? You think you can just finish this with a move like that?"

Dawn shook her head, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a portable taser. She walked calmly up to Spike. "Spike, don't overreact. Andrew was just trying to do this."

She tapped him in the middle of the back, and he convulsed. There was no noise of sparks or blue lights flashing over him, just a sudden jerk, and he fell to the ground bonelessly.

Illyria stalked towards Dawn. "Oh, good. Now that he will not interfere I could, say, kill you all."

Dawn glanced back at Illyria with terror, surprised to see a scowl on the blue demon's face instead of the triumphant grin she was expecting. "Er, what?"

Illyria sighed. "I am trying to convey through the use of threats that your chosen course of action was the stupidest possible one. Spike is, after all, according to your theories the only possible hold on me. Being as I am a soulless demon. As long as I exist you should keep him conscious and able to deal with me at all times." The blue demon tilted her head to one side. "That or you should equip your Slayers all with troll-God hammers."

Dawn flushed. "You saw that conversation? Spike showed you?"

"He and I are very close—although not as close as you think. Some days it is impossible for me to shield my innermost thoughts from him."

Dawn examined the blue demon closely, trying to discern some clues from her stance. All she could see written large in body language was 'stand back from Spike or die.'

"I take it you're a little protective of Spike," she said nervously, stepping back. She'd seen the strength of the demon when Illyria had struck Dana, and didn't want to see it again.

Illyria glanced down at Spike. "Some days more than others," she said darkly. "The suicidal fool." Dana crept forward, and Illyria turned, glaring at her. "Do not think that I share Spike's weakness for Slayers just because I share my mind and powers with him. Do not think I won't kill you if you take one step closer."

Dawn wondered if the taser trick would work again, or if the dazzling reflexes Spike had already demonstrated were indicative of Illyria's speed. If she was as fast as Spike, then there was no chance. He had been lulled by her powerlessness into thinking she was harmless, which was a common enough mistake.

Dana backed away, a resentful look in her eyes. "I saw him kill me," she said sullenly. "You can't tell me it's not real. It's always real. It always happens. Just like the dream. Every single time."

Andrew moved back to the stairs, sitting down. "Wait, wait. Dana had a Slayer dream again, and that's why everyone's fighting? I thought Spike must have done something. It was just a dream?"

Dana scowled. "It was a very scary dream."

Spike stirred, and Dawn felt a tiny jump in her stomach. He shouldn't have recovered so quickly, just another sign that he was more than human, that his association with the hell-goddess was affecting him in ways it shouldn't have.

"Bugger! Taught that girl too well," he muttered.

"Actually, that was one I learned from Buffy," said Dawn.

Andrew was still frowning. "Illyria, can I get by you to get to the phone? I think I need to call England."

"Don't worry, they'll be calling us," said Dawn. "If the other Slayers saw it again… well, they'll be calling us."

"No doubt," muttered Spike, getting up as far as his knees before pausing. "You know, it occurs to me that teaching Dana how to knock out and disable a more powerful opponent than herself wasn't the wisest thing."

"Yes, Spike. Teaching the crazy Slayer how to be even scarier was dumb," hissed Dana.

"What, you want my feet this time? Or all the way up to my shoulders?" mocked Spike. "Bloody women! Always taking and taking."

"Hey!" said Dawn. "Don't make the crazy metaphor for your relationship with Buffy be a crazy metaphor for all relationships!"

Dana glared at Spike. "I trusted you!" she hissed.

"No, you thought you trusted me. If you had trusted me you would have told me the same way you did after the first dream instead of hauling off and hitting me!"

"Enough!" growled Illyria. "I can see that we will have to part now, and go our separate ways!"

"Not likely!" said Dawn, frowning. "It's more than bad enough that this is happening. I really can't see us letting you two out of our sight."

"Then I shall simply have to put those tasers to a more constructive use," said Illyria.

Spike grabbed her arm at the wrist. "Love, much as I hate to argue when you talk sense like that, I don't think more violence is the answer to this."

Illyria smiled, a cold smile devoid of all emotion. "You've always said some violence can solve most problems."

"Well, this is that tiny tenth of a tenth of a millionth of one percent that can't be solved that way! Trust me, okay?"

"I do not wish to trust you on this one. I wish to be absolutely certain." Illyria glared at Dana, and glanced back at Dawn and Andrew. "However, if you wish to be so foolish as to try to talk your way out of this, I will stand behind you and nod encouragingly. In a manner that threatens further violence should they attempt to lay another hand on you."

Spike sighed, exasperated. "I can take care of myself, love."

"If you would take care of yourself, this would not be a problem. It is your overwhelmingly suicidal stupidity that causes this problem, not your lack of manly strength. Although right now I'm sure all of us are questioning your manhood, since you allowed Dana to overwhelm you."

"Hey!" said Dana. "I can be overwhelming! You want some whelming, huh?"

Illyria eyed Dana. "If there is going to be any whelming around here, I assure you, I am going to be doing it."

Spike stood up, sighing. "If you two are done with your absolutely _witty_ banter, could we start seriously talking about what's going on here? I mean, by all means, have a catfight, pull hair and tear clothes, but wait till I have a cold drink and a clear head, okay?"

Illyria glared at him. "I do not appreciate my efforts to protect you being mocked."

"I don't appreciate your efforts to protect me. Fair enough?"

Spike moved towards Dawn, lifting his hands. "All right, I'll admit my attempts to fix things may have gone a bit badly. I'm not sure what else I can do, though. Apparently if I don't fight your Slayers then I'll end up killing them, which seems to me to be kind of a funny progression."

"You strengthened your bond with Illyria," said Dawn. "This has nothing to do with your decisions, and everything to do with hers. Take a moment and appreciate the irony, Spike. Your moral decisions have no weight while you're bonded to her. Only hers."

Spike scowled, glancing at Illyria. "You hear that, love? She's trying to say she doesn't trust you as far as she can throw you. You want to lighten up, all things considered?"

Illyria continued to scowl at him, but she didn't say anything.

Dawn sighed heavily. "Okay, what about severing your bond with Illyria?"

Spike stared at her, aghast. "No, never in a million years!" he snarled. "Are you daft?"

Illyria's frown lightened. "Actually, I think she may be onto something now. Connor could take your place as my priest and champion, and then you would be powerless, and therefore not in anybody's way."

"You mean not in harm's way," said Spike. "Actually, I can think of a few dozen enemies who'd like to come after me if they found out I was suddenly powerless." But there was no real argument in his voice, and his eyes were shining with a strange light, one that somewhat scared Dawn.

Dana frowned. "Wait, wait; you're saying Spike doesn't have to have powers? That he chose them?"

"Of course," said Dawn. "His powers come from his relationship with her."

"He chose to be like this," said Dana flatly. "There was no cosmic calling, no message from the higher powers. No destiny. He chose to be like us."

Spike shrugged. "There was a bit of destiny involved, in the beginning. But I grabbed destiny by the balls and gave it a swift kick in the arse. Why?"

Dana shrugged. "It just seems kind of… wrong. The rest of us all had to do this; it's our destiny. And you just kind of… did it."

Spike shrugged again. "It's what I do, pet. Throw destiny off course, make things happen. I've been told it's a bad habit, but that isn't going to stop me."

Andrew smiled. "It's one of the great heroic things about Spike—that unlike most of us, he has a choice in the matter, and still chooses to fight evil."

Spike scoffed. "You can just shut up or else I'll remember who came at me with a taser."

"Ah, that would be me," said Dawn.

He scowled at her. "So you should be quiet too."

"So we're talking about this, right?" said Dawn. "We're talking about Spike giving up his powers?"

"Yeah," said Spike with a sigh. "As soon as Connor gets here we'll begin the ceremonies."

Illyria turned, facing Spike, and put her hands on his shoulders. "Don't think of this as a rejection," she said, her eyes softening. "I would stand by you forever. But if standing by you will destroy you, how can I do it?"

Spike smiled wanly. "Fair enough, pet. Fair enough."


	5. Lessons in living

Title: If I should die before we wake

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or situations, or concepts, or anything, really.

Summary: After the events described in Deconstructing Hell Spike, Andrew and Dana are menaced by a shadowy threat to Spike's life. You should read DH first.

Rating: T, because Spike is violent, rude, crude, and the bad guys are worse. Well, that's a lie. The bad guys are never worse than Spike.

Note: Gentle Reader. No, that doesn't sound quite right. Dear friends; I took November off and wrote a novel. It was a big step, and unfortunately, it opened my eyes. As fun as Fanficing has been, it's unprofitable. Simply put, I can't sell these stories. And trust me, that becomes a consideration. So I must bid you adieu.

But, wait! you say. What about your unfinished stories? I looked at those myself with a grimace of regret. I couldn't abandon them—unfinished they would hang over my head like a sword. But I couldn't write them out to the original plans, either.

So I pulled out my plotting pad (yes, I have a plotting pad) and redesigned the stories. Well, I redesigned "die before we wake" and "a child shall lead them." The others, I'll do later. I kept the same essential plot, but I pared it down. I leaned it down. I cut the deadweight.

But once my current projects are finished, I going full-time back into writing novels I can sell. Sorry.

Chapter 5: lessons in living

--

The apartment Spike had they staying in was more than vaguely uncool. It was the opposite of hip, the definition of plain. It was ordinary.

Which was strange, considering how cool he was.

He was hanging out in the kitchen again, attempting to bake some large meal that was enough for everyone, with meat and potatoes and all the whole foods he insisted were healthier than processed when Dana found him.

"You wanna talk about it, Fruitloop?" he asked, not even looking up as she came in.

"Not really." She was far too busy sulking just now. It had definitely hurt her feelings when he'd turned on her in the dream, and he had been terrifying. She could still feel a tiny tremor running through her chest.

He opened the over door, danced back away from the rush of hot air, then darted in and slid a tray with potatoes on it into the oven. "Okay, then we're going to talk about something else. Hope you don't mind."

"Something else is nice. A little like running away, but not."

She sat down on the stool in the corner, and he leaned against the counter. There was a slightly flustered look on his face, which surprised her. Spike was never flustered.

"You remember we had that chat about selfishness?" he asked her softly, his rough voice slipping slightly.

"Yes."

"I've been thinking that it would be nice of me to do something for you. I mean, I don't have that long left to live—and I owe you one."

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"It's not entirely unselfish, but… you know how you don't like guys to touch you?"

She squirmed in her seat. "It makes me uncomfortable."

"Yeah. Your life got all screwed up because of that guy, right?"

"I don't think I want to talk about this either."

"Hear me out, kiddo. Hear me out." He looked up, meeting her eyes. She could see nervousness in his gaze, and very little of the attitude that usually got him through difficult moments. "I've used that. I'm not proud of it."

"You mean that time we were all tied up and you tricked the guy into touching me so I would get angry and kick him in the face?"

"Yeah. You freaking out then was very convenient. Distracted them nicely while I got free and let Illyria out of the cage. And it was a good fight, right?" He stopped, trying to focus again. "It's a mental block, see? You want to keep the old memories out, so you won't let anything happen that might trigger them. And there's fear, of course. I've known that for a good long time, and I'm pretty sure I could help you get through that… but it was convenient."

"Convenient?"

"To have a weapon who goes off when you touch her. I shouldn't have thought that way, but I did."

"Oh."

"I'd like to help you now… if you'll promise not to punch me."

"Promise? Why?" She was nervous now.

He lifted a hand, keeping it high, palm turned towards her. "Bear with me," he said, somewhat nervously.

She was pretty sure he was nervous because she had moved her foot so that she could kick him between the legs if he touched her.

He moved his hand very slowly towards her. Her nostrils' flared, and her eyes narrowed. "What are you doing?"

It was about level with her face, and he didn't say anything, just letting his hand hover in front of her face. "You said you trusted me. Do you?"

She didn't have a chance to reply before his hand moved forward slowly, shakily, and floated the inches towards her face. She had to bite her lip to keep from screaming.

His hands were warm, and the faint smell of potatoes wafted off them. He simply rested his hand there against her cheek for a moment, a sheepish smile on his face. "Not freaking out?" he asked her.

"Not yet," she said, still biting her lip. It came out muffled, words she couldn't understand.

He smiled, and the hand on her cheek moved. She jumped a little bit, the foot aimed towards him bobbing downward in anticipation of a kick. He didn't flinch, just continuing to move his hand in tiny circle on her cheek. His fingertips smoothed her wild hair back.

Her heart was racing, and she was almost ready to punch him, kick him, anything to get him away from her.

There was something in his eyes, something very hesitant and wounded, and she didn't understand it. He leaned forward, his other hand staying down at his side, and moved towards her.

She sat there frozen, not understanding, as his face came closer to hers. He met her gaze, and there was some fear in his own eyes.

"And that's it, no more block?" she asked him.

"It worked here because you didn't want to hit me," he told her quietly. "Because you trusted me. But you used self control, wouldn't let yourself just do what you wanted. So that even if you are freaking out, you aren't going to let it control you. So that when someone else touches you, the same choice will be there. Hit them or not? Go wild or not? You can still freak out. But only if you want to."

She let out the breath she had been holding. She could feel a strange buzzing in her stomach. "Thank you."

He leaned in further, and his lips were on hers, very gently. It was a fast kiss, there and gone, and he backed up very slowly.

"That… that's the part that was a little selfish," he said, and his voice was very shaky now.

She stared at him, eyes as wide as saucers. "What?" she said faintly.

He kissed her again, holding it longer this time. His hand on her face shifted, moving back along her head, a gentle, questing touch.

She wasn't sure whether she wanted to grab him and hold him there or throw him through the wall. She wasn't sure there was a difference between the two desires. Her heart was now going faster than a speeding freight train, and her hands seemed to move of their own volition, grabbing at his shirt and just holding him there.

Then a throat was cleared, very loudly, in the doorway, and Spike slowly broke the kiss, backing away slowly with a sigh. Dana didn't let go of his shirt.

"I see," said Dawn slowly, her voice very cold. "I didn't before, but now I see it."

Dana stared at Spike. She wasn't entirely sure what had just happened, or what it meant, but she knew it was important.

He stared back, and he looked more afraid and miserable than she'd ever seen him look.

Illyria came stomping into the room, pushing Dawn aside to get in. "Alright, out!" she snapped, an angry tone in her voice that Dana had never heard.

Dana started to stand to rush out of the room, to let her have the chat with Spike she obviously wanted. Illyria moved forward, grabbing Spike by the shoulder and flinging him backwards in the general direction of the door with her right arm while pushing Dana back down into the chair with her left. "Out!" shouted the former God-King of the universe.

Spike spun like a cat, landing on his feet. "Watch the potatoes," he said, some nervousness still in his voice, and turned to Dawn, awkwardly leading her from the room.

"Spike is a complicated man," seethed Illyria, meeting Dana's gaze with an implacable, searing look of anger. "He carries with him much fear and buried weeping. He does not open himself up to pain very often, especially not with women, since he has never received anything but pain from them."

Dana just stared at the demon, unsure what she meant.

"That he has opened himself up to you for such pain and humiliation again is an extremely brave and foolhardy thing for him to do. And you have it in your power now to crush him like a tiny plastic child's plaything under your foot. Were you to do so, I would be forced to kill you." Illyria leaned in closer. "Let me be very clear with you; if you do not wish him to continue, you will tell him so in a friendly and amiable manner. If you hate him intensely for what he has done, you will tell him in a way that lets him keep his dignity. If you desire him to have pain, you will do the upright and moral thing and not cause that pain."

--

As Spike lead Dawn away from the room where his partner in crime was about to say whatever it was that she wanted to say to the crazy Slayer, he reflected that in some metaphysical way his life was completely beyond repair now.

He'd accused Dana on many occasions of being nothing but a metaphor for his relationship with Buffy. If that was the case, he was surely doomed now; the worst punishments always came after kisses. He knew that.

"You have no right to mess with her like that," said Dawn coldly, turning to face Spike with her arms crossed.

Spike knew what she meant instantly, and it shocked him just a little bit. Did she think he was so callous as to use the slayer, who had been through so much?

Of course she did. That was the image he presented to the world, wasn't it? Spike, the guy who doesn't care. Spike, the sneering insensitive jerk.

He sneered at her. "Don't know what you're talking about."

"Give me a break, Spike. I'm sure it's a blast for you, a different girl every night of the week, but that girl in there wears her heart on her sleeve. You will break it, and that's a crime."

He wondered just what he owed it to his oldest friend to tell her. "Seen any girls lately?"

"What?"

"Wandering to and from the Spike-cave."

"The Spike-cave? God, Andrew's been here too long."

"No argument here. You can ask Andrew if you like."

"Ask him what?"

"If there are any girls."

"Oh, you've changed your womanizing ways?"

Spike retreated, glowering at her. "You know what I mean. Bloody woman!" He turned and stalked out of the room, heading up the stairs.

Dana tiptoed out of the kitchen, a slightly queasy look on her face. "Do you know, I think I liked her better when she was telling me if I hurt him she'd kill me," she said.

There was a knock at the door.

Dawn frowned, approaching it slowly. Illyria appeared out of the kitchen, moving fast, and jumped in front of her, opening the door and drawing back an arm to hit the person at the door. "Identify yourself!" she hissed.

The girl standing at the door responded with a quick front-kick that sent Illyria staggering back. "Demon!" she yelled, moving forward.

Illyria put a hand up, palm forward, in a stopping gesture. "You are a Slayer," she said. "Therefore I will give you warning, as is fair. Spike has said I am not to harm you. But if you are here to do harm to him, I will rend you limb from limb."

"Stand down!" said Dawn, moving forward. "Lucy? What are you doing here? Last I knew you were in Italy watching… Barclay."

The man behind Lucy grimaced. "I'm sorry, who's she?" he asked, pointing at Dawn. "And how does she know about Italy?"

The demon behind him frowned. "I believe that she is part of the Watcher's Council."

"You brought Barclay here?" demanded Dawn.

Illyria straightened up. "Who is this Barclay?" She stared at the demon. "And why does he travel with a demon of this nature?"

The tall scaly demon scowled. "Why does everyone ask that? I'm one of the good guys!"

"You brought Barclay here? There better be a good explanation," said Dawn.

"There's a great one, and it involves a huge conspiracy. I mean, a huge one. A conspiracy to kill all the Slayers."

Spike came running down the stairs. "I knew it!" he screamed. "Paranoid! Ha! They are out to get us!"

"Oh, crap!" said Lucy, staring at him.

"Oh, bugger," said the demon behind Barclay.

Spike paled, staring at him. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"What are you doing here, Spike?" replied the demon. "Are you one of the vampires following the Ex-vampire, part of his cult?"

Spike snorted. "You're only the third one to not make the connection, ninny. I'm the ex-vampire."

"No way!" snorted the demon. "I've heard about him. An epic warrior, a slayer of Slayers, a noble hero."

Spike sighed. "Look, those are all things I'd rather forget, okay?"

The demon stared at him. "You're serious? No flipping way!"

"You know the Ex-vampire?" asked Barclay, puffing on his cigarette and leaning in the door. Spike turned to him, pointing at him.

"Put it out," he said, his voice harsh and cold.

"What?"

"If you want to smoke you go down to the lamppost. You do not smoke in or near this house."

Barclay hesitated, clearly considering defying him.

"Well, look who's a smoking Nazi now," said Dawn, turning to face Spike and crossing her arms.

"Ms. Summers, I have a report. Almost all typed up. I have flowcharts, and… there are vampires! Part of this plot is the vampires. Somebody has a network of them."

"The warehouse full of them!" said Spike, making the mental connection. "Of course! They have a hierarchy—someone's getting them all riled up for this! Blast them!"

Barclay frowned. "You found a warehouse full of them?" He dropped his cigarette and stepped on it. "That's bad. There's a prophecy that says—"

"No!" yelled Spike. "No prophecies! I've had my fill of them!"

"But—?"

"No!"

Dawn cleared her throat. "Is that in your report?" she asked Lucy, who nodded mutely. Illyria cleared her throat, glaring at Dawn.

"Would you like to come in?" she asked the group in the doorway, who exchanged sheepish glances and came in.

Andrew came running down the stairs. "Demon! Demon! The demon alarm went off! A strange demon is breaking into the Dark Avenger's Stronghold of Justice!"

"Relax," said Spike. "He's here on friendly terms."

Andrew stopped at the bottom of the stairs, tripped, fell headlong, and rolled on the floor. Spike ignored him, while Dana turned and helped him up.

The tall demon eyed Spike hostilely. "I really don't see how you could ever have become good."

"It's a long story. Good story. There's a girl—a Slayer—a soul, a long struggle against evil, my eventual death, my return from the dead, my next death, my return from that death as a human, and then my wonderful, wonderful battle against evil. Not to mention there's a little bit in there about kicking the butts of the most powerful transdimensional evil this world has ever seen."

Dawn scowled. "Now you're just showing off," she muttered.

"A bloke has to have some joy in life."

--

"Do you know what my name means?"

The vampires gathered around the tall dark human frowned, shaking their heads. In truth, none of them were the brightest bulbs, even for vampires. The smart vampires were having nothing to do with this.

Which was fine. There were plenty of dumb vampires.

"The name Boris means warrior. That's who I am, that's what I am. For too long have the forces of goodness multiplied and destroyed us! For too long have they turned the scales against us! Today we will even the scales! Tonight when the sun sets, we will destroy them!"

Boris had been born in 1532. His longevity was due to dark magic, stealing the souls of the innocent, and good clean exercise. At least, that was what he'd told Villains Weekly.

Back before Wolfram and Hart had been crushed and Villains Weekly had ceased publication.

Before the dark times. Before a new wave of Slayers world-wide with allies, a budget, and even… the worst of all… morals.

The old Watcher's Council had been amoral in many regards. The right palms greased, and your evil organization might unnoticed for centuries.

Boris was upset about the end to all of that. In fact, he was beyond upset. He'd always had issues with his temper, but now he couldn't seem to get through a day without going all Darth Vader and crushing one of his minions.

Which was a little weird, actually. The name Anakin also meant Warrior.

He shook off the thoughts. "Tonight we kill Slayers!" he hissed. "When they turn on their best ally and kill him, our victory will be complete!"


	6. Infernal and internal

Title: If I should die before we wake

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or situations, or concepts, or anything, really.

Summary: After the events described in Deconstructing Hell Spike, Andrew and Dana are menaced by a shadowy threat to Spike's life. You should read DH first.

Rating: T, because Spike is violent, rude, crude, and the bad guys are worse. Well, that's a lie. The bad guys are never worse than Spike.

Chapter 6: infernal and internal

--

While the grownups talked shop, Dana and Spike hung out on the front porch.

It was strange that Spike was there. Usually he was the leader, but ever since Dawn had arrived he'd slipped back into the role of sidekick as easily and naturally as a fifteen-year-old.

He was playing with his lighter, a definite sign that he was nervous.

"Does it bug you when people smoke?" Dana asked. He'd never yelled about smoking before, but they'd never had a smoker visit before. Except when Faith visited, and she knew better than to smoke in front of him anyway.

"More than you can imagine!" he ground out. "The Watchers are afraid I'll go back to slaughtering innocents. But that's never been as much a temptation as the bloody smokes!"

"Hard to quit, huh?"

"Love, I stopped killing and drinking human blood, okay? A vampire. My very instinct, my _raison d'etre_, was drinking human blood. And I stopped. That's a turn-your-life around kind of experience, one that was so hard at the time I thought I would go mad. And it was nothing—nothing! Not compared to the smokes."

"But they're bad for you."

"Worse for me than most. But, yeah. Besides that, I promised Blue I'd be sticking around for her as long as I could. And how's chewing bloody death-sticks help that? I mean, at least when I was a vampire there was no physical risk to me. Not that it would have stopped me, anyway. Actually, there is a good deal of physical risk, now that I think on it. Fire that close to a very, very flammable dead old body isn't a good thing. But I didn't mind it."

"But now you have responsibilities."

"I feel like some kind of awkward father with a two-headed child."

"Well, yes. But all of us. We'd be very mad if you went away."

"Yeah."

They were silent.

"Why'd you kiss me in the kitchen? I mean, that was a kiss, right? I'm pretty sure it was. There were lips."

"Yeah, it was a kiss." He folded his hands in his lap.

"Why?"

"Well, that's complicated. And it's complicated even before we bring up the very, very complicated subject of my last, um, relationship. If you can call it that. So trust me when I say, we'll be talking a while."

"But was it just to help through the mental block? Because, if it was, I'm really mad at you, but it's okay. I think it's okay. Is it okay?"

"No, it wouldn't be. And it's not why."

"So why?"

"This is going to take patience to untangle. See, my original plan was just to touch you. Be a good boy and help you out. Completely unselfish." There was a frown on his face. "And that's how all my best plans start, come to think of it."

He wasn't meeting her eyes, just staring out across the road. She wondered if he was afraid of her. Illyria had seemed to think so, and Dana thought that was almost as crazy as she was. What did he have to be afraid of? He was Spike! Everybody else was scared to death of him.

Of course, without his power, they wouldn't be. And they were going to take that power away. That just didn't seem right, a powerless Spike. It was like he would be only half there.

Like his hands were cut off.

Strange that she hadn't considered before how cruel her actions must have been. She knew now—as she hadn't when she'd cut him—that he was a vital person. A person of action.

A person whose hands were necessary.

It must have been a psychological blow to have them gone, and she knew psychological blows. Spike was reliant on nobody; it was a point of pride to him. She knew how much he hated having to ask Angel for help. Or the Slayers. Or Illyria. Or Connor.

He'd bought his independence with blood, after all.

"I wanted to kiss you," he said. "Have for a while. And don't you bloody well dare ask me why. No rhyme or reason to it at all. It's usually that way, you know? I don't get it. I never bloody have. Maybe that's part of the problem."

"Problem?" She didn't like the sounds of that.

He sighed. "I shouldn't have just kissed you. I should have said something—told you how I felt. I should have asked you on a date. I should have done something normal."

"Normal? Do we ever do anything like that?" she asked dubiously.

"I insist on it," he said. "I cook, don't I?"

He did, which was exceptional, for him.

She sighed, mimicking his most common mannerism. "I didn't mind the kiss," she said finally.

He chuckled. "That's good to know."

"No, I don't mean… I mean, from you. If somebody else wanted to kiss me it wouldn't matter if it was really good or really bad, because I mind, and I'd break them first. But I don't mind from you. Does that make sense, or am I insane?"

"Less insane than me, I think," he said broodily. She hated it when he got like that and started thinking about the past. She knew just how bad the past could be. She didn't even like to imagine the past any more.

"How insane are you?"

"I can't even kiss a girl any more without thinking about some other girl," he said. "Two girls, actually. No, make that three. And that's the part about my past relationships that you really deserve to know about."

"Oh," she said, a little disappointed.

"And yeah, you deserve better than that, too. And it sort of ruined the moment back there—as if Blue and Nibblet weren't already doing that."

"Why do you still call her that?"

"What?"

"Nibblet. Dawn. You're no longer a predator—she isn't just a snack anymore."

He grimaced. "You're asking a horrible old man to change his ways, which he is well-set in, trust me."

"Isn't that what you're all about? Changing?"

"Yes, yes, I am. But that's something I don't have to change, isn't it? So I keep it."

Behind them the door opened. Spike didn't look back. "I thought I told you to smoke outside?"

Barclay put out the cigarette. "I believe we have what we need. We'll be back," he said gruffly, heading out.

The Slayer, Lucy, followed him. Dana always found it weird being around other Slayers. They felt different than demons or other people, and sometimes it was almost like she could see through their eyes. Other Slayers hadn't said anything about that, so she assumed it was just a crazy thing. But it was weird.

The tall, scaly demon stayed behind a second, staring at Spike. "How odd," he said finally.

"I'm not getting into it with you. Not yet."

"No, perhaps not. I can see that."

"You done?"

"They spent the last ten minutes of our meeting discussing ways to keep you away from the Slayer beside you," said the demon, his tone neutral.

"I figured," said Spike.

"Yes. All very complicated, I'm sure."

"Since when are you a good guy?"

"Since when are you?"

There was a long silence, while Spike looked at the ground and the demon studied him. Finally the demon turned and followed his companions, still without a word.

"Time to face the music," muttered Spike.

--

There wasn't many things Dana liked better than watching Andrew and Spike argue. They both made good points, and they were both reasonably articulate about it.

But it was their faces that she enjoyed. Those wildly expressive faces that reflected so much of what was inside that you felt like you were reading their minds. Faces that betrayed everything. She wondered sometimes how Spike had ever been evil. Everyone would know right away he was up to no good.

Of course, that might have worked with his whole bad boy image. He'd just let them know up front that he was evil, show up and tell somebody he was there to kill them. Then he'd fight them, because he loved to fight. And he'd say whatever the outcome might be was the best thing that could have happened.

And that was right.

But right now it wasn't fun watching them argue, because it was suddenly important to them. The television wasn't, for all they talked about it. It was just what they did.

But Andrew was telling Spike he had to leave and leave Dana alone. And Spike didn't like that. And Andrew didn't like that Spike didn't like that, because Andrew was supposed to protect Dana. He took that seriously, and thought the title Watcher wasn't anywhere near serious enough.

And the worst part was what she could see on their faces. Spike was miserable, but he was thinking that maybe Andrew was right and it would be better that way. And so he was inches from giving up.

But Andrew didn't really believe it, because he believed in Spike. And it was breaking his heart to have to try and sort his loyalties out between his Slayer and the ex-vampire he idolized so much.

And so they were both arguing quietly, with misery on their faces.

At the same time Dawn was arguing with Illyria. That was even more tense, since Dana knew from experience that the dark demon was often impatient with arguements. If she decided it would be faster or better to simply fight, she would. If she thought you were wrong, she would simply stop arguing, since it was a waste of her time.

In short, she was arrogant.

And Dawn didn't take well to that. She was on the verge of shouting, which wasn't good.

In the meantime, Dana had her own little problem to deal with. As everyone else was arguing, she was having to deal with the phone. They were ignoring it right now, and of course that meant that she was having to talk to the various different people who were calling.

Right now she had Connor on hold, Mister Giles on hold, Harmony on hold, and she was trying to deal with a very angry Faith. It wasn't easy. "Everybody's okay, and everybody is sure we can change what we saw in the Slayer dreams."

"Do you actually believe them, fruit loop? Men are like that. They tell you what they think, but it's never what's real. It's always fake."

Dana was having trouble understanding Faith. In a situation like this she was sure that Spike would have been able to tell her that something else was going on, that something deeper ran beneath Faith's words.

But she couldn't figure it out, so she said something meaningless about a nice day, and hung up on Faith. Next came Harmony, her personal favorite.

Dana liked Harmony. That wasn't right, since Harmony was a vampire and didn't have a soul. Nobody liked Harmony, and that was important, for some reason. Not liking her. Since they might have to kill her, Dana supposed. Emotional distance, Spike would say.

But it was easy to like her. She was always happy, and always saying nice things about Dana. And giving her tips on how to look better. And how to not look crazy.

And besides that, she was on their side right now, wasn't she?

"Hello, Harmony. Sorry, I have other people on hold too."

"Neat. Is blondie bear there?"

"He's arguing right now."

"Can he argue with more than one person at a time? Never mind, I know he can. I'm just not good enough for him to argue with me. Blah. Could you tell him that I think we have a clue about what's going on with Angel?"

"I don't think he cares."

"Oh, he's just covering up. He's got layers, my Blondie Bear."

"Layers?"

"Like onions. Or cakes. Cakes are better. People don't like onions."

"I like them."

"Then it's a good example!"

"He kissed me."

Harmony hung up, which confused Dana a little. She moved on to the next flashing light, and she couldn't remember who it was for a second. There was just Connor and Mister Giles left, but she wasn't sure which one it was. In person she knew you could never make that mistake, or even if they were talking to themselves right now, which would be handy.

But they weren't. All she could hear was a faraway hum. "Um, hello?" she ventured.

"Oh, thank God!" said Mister Giles. "I couldn't take that abysmal music one more second!"

Dana thought about that. Spike had chosen the music for when somebody was on hold, but she thought that he and the Watcher had similar tastes in music. "What is it?" she asked. "I've never heard it."

"It's not music Spike would like, it's music he likes to inflict," said Giles with a sigh. "And it's a bloody, bloody, bloody small world after all. Is Spike there?"

"Er, he's arguing."

"Is Dawn there?"

"She's arguing."

"Are they arguing with each other?"

"No."

"Oh. Oh, dear. Well, that's the way it goes. Would you tell them that some, um, new information has come up? Information that I really need to pursue. I won't be coming to the meeting. Do you all have a solution?"

"Yes, Mister Giles. We're going to strip Spike of his powers."

"Oh! Good!" He sounded more cheerful now, which confused her. She had thought that he and Spike got along pretty well, all things considered. Of course, he was very protective of the Slayers, and the thought that Spike might hurt them must have really bothered him.

"Goodbye," she said helpfully, glancing down at the still-blinking light on the other line.

"Goodbye, dear. Do try to stay sane."

It annoyed her that he felt the need to say that, but she didn't argue with him. He was supposed to know best, after all.

She hit the last button, and she could hear Connor muttering to himself. "Third to broadway, broadway to main... no, no. That's right through rush hour traffic."

"Hello? Connor?" she said.

"Dana? Hi. How are you?"

"Still sane."

"Oh, good. Slayer visions got worse?"

"Yes. I saw Spike killing me, and I freaked out and hit him. And he kissed me."

"That's... disturbing. And, once again, very oddly reminiscent of his relationship with Buffy."

"Oh, dear. I was hoping it wasn't about that."

"Well, you can never tell."

"He said it wasn't about that."

"He might be right. I'll try to help you guys sort that out when I get there."

"Yes, and you need to take Spike's job and take Illyria's powers. Be her high priest."

"Oh. Well, I thought this might happen eventually. I'd hoped to get through college first, but that's the way the cookie crumbles. I'll be there in a few hours. Days, maybe. Left here! Left here! Ciao." He hung up before she could.

She checked the lights one more time to make sure she'd taken care of them all. Since she had, she hung up.

She really didn't like the phone.

The arguements appeared to have been settled, or not settled, while she was on the phone. The whispers were done, and Spike and Illyria were watching TV, taking up the whole couch and not talking. The silence was very intense, which was a little weird. This was not a quiet house. The people here usually used words for all sorts of things--to talk, to fence, to scream, to confound, to argue.

But now they were using silence as a weapon, and that was uncomfortable. Dawn and Andrew were sitting side by side on the stairs, and they were silent too. It was a slightly more tense silence.

And suddenly Dana wondered where she should be sitting. Where was her place? Should she sit with Spike? (he had kissed her) Or should she go with her watcher. (he thought it was bad that Spike had kissed her)

It would be taking sides, though. And she wasn't sure she wanted to do that. That meant one side wouldn't be on her side.

So she grabbed hold of the phone as if waiting for it to ring, and stared down at it as if expecting it to ring at any second. Yes, after all, two of the four callers had disconnected suddenly. Well, Connor had said goodbye first, so only one, really. But Harmony might be calling right back.

So it was important to stay by the phone. Just in case.


	7. Don't you dare

Title: If I should die before we wake

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or situations, or concepts, or anything, really.

Summary: After the events described in Deconstructing Hell Spike, Andrew and Dana are menaced by a shadowy threat to Spike's life. You should read DH first.

Rating: T, because Spike is violent, rude, crude, and the bad guys are worse. Well, that's a lie. The bad guys are never worse than Spike.

Chapter 7: Don't you dare

--

The standoff continued, with Dana hovering over the phone. Finally Spike turned off the television. "Okay, I get the Slayer, and I sort of get N'Tallkr'ii. But who was the git with the smokes?"

"N'Tallkr'ii?" asked Illryia.

"The tall scaly guy. His friends just call him Kri."

"You don't?"

"I'm not his friend."

"The git with the smokes," said Dawn carefully, "is Barclay. He's a rogue demon hunter, one we'd been keeping an eye on. We assigned Lucy to follow him. He's dangerous."

"Dangerous in the Spike and Angel sense, or dangerous in the world-ending sense?"

"Um, more of the 'crazy fool with too little knowledge to save himself but just enough to unleash a crazed demon on the world.' It was a thing."

Spike grimaced. "And this conspiracy they found?"

"It exists." Dawn's frown returned. "And one of their concerns is that you already have a network of vampires in place—you are, in fact, their suspect number one."

Spike laughed. "Harmony and the Spike-hounds couldn't conspire to put out a burning candle!" he said harshly.

Dawn sighed. "They're a well-organized fighting machine. You're the only one who denies it at this point. Even Angel calls them dangerous."

"He's jealous he doesn't get a fan club."

"They're not a fan club. They're dangerous, unstable…"

"Right. So they came here to find out if I was the one conspiring against the Slayers?"

"Yes. Which, added to the Slayer dreams, just put you in even more trouble."

Spike mulled that over. "Well, then."

Dawn glared at him. "You're not taking this seriously."

He shrugged. "Maybe I'm not. But maybe I just know something you don't know, ever think of that?"

"Like what?"

Spike smiled secretively.

Dawn threw her hands in the air. "Anything else, while we're on the subject?"

"Yeah. Seeing old scale-head reminded me that I need to make a phone call." Spike stood up and wandered over to Dana.

For some reason that made Andrew and Dawn very tense. Dana thought that it was a relaxing sort of gesture.

Dana moved aside, letting Spike touch the phone. He picked it up but didn't dial, instead glancing to Dana. "Decision time, kid," he said.

"What?"

"You can try to stop me, or you can let me go. What's it going to be?"

The front doorbell rang. Illyria didn't spring up to get it, instead leaning back imperiously and glaring at Andrew and Dawn, who glared back. It rang again.

"I don't understand!" said Dana. And right now she thought it might be urgent that she understood.

"I mean, we're leaving. Illyria and me. Dawn thought it was a bad idea, but we've got business."

Andrew stood up, heading for the door. Dawn got up to follow him, keeping an eye on Spike, who began to dial random numbers without looking at the phone, still staring at Dana.

"Why?"

"Because there's a conspiracy and they think I'm behind it. I never did play nice with the other kids—you know that."

"But—?"

"No buts, not this time."

Dana wasn't sure what he meant. Then she heard the demon alarm in Andrew's room upstairs jingle, and Andrew came flying back through the room, tumbling over the ground.

"Watch out!" said Dana, heading for the weapons cabinet.

Spike tripped her.

As she stumbled she could see Illyria pointing a finger at Dawn while standing, and she could see Dawn going for the crossbow.

And Connor was coming in the door, sword drawn. "One extraction team, as ordered."

"I thought you were an hour away!" wailed Dana, scrambling to her feet.

"Well, I can't tell the truth all the time, can I?"

"And how did you talk to Spike?"

"I didn't. All I needed to hear was the part where Spike was killing you, and I knew that your lot really wouldn't like that. And we have plans for these eventualities."

Spike stopped at the closet and grabbed a bag. Dana recognized it as his emergency weapons bag. "I'm real sorry about this, but we have business," he said gruffly.

Dana whirled and grabbed his arm. He didn't fight back, just pulling his arm up between them and closing it into a fist defensively. She kept a tight grip on his wrist, one that she was all too aware was a little too needy.

She couldn't think of anything to say. She couldn't even think of words that would express what she felt bubbling under her skin, thrashing around in her stomach.

But this was Spike, so she didn't have to. She just held on, and waited for him to get it.

He scowled. "You want to come with us, don't you?"

"She will slow us down, and she is a danger to you," said Illyria, who was busily tying Dawn and Andrew up.

Spike didn't say anything, just watching Dana. He glanced back at Connor, finally, who had put his sword away and was watching them both with a guarded expression. "Well?" asked Spike moodily.

Connor's slightly androgynous face twisted into a brooding look that Dana remembered Angel wearing a lot. "Spike, you have all sorts of issues. Just ask yourself; will your issues get us killed?"

Spike thought about that. Dana, in the meantime, decided she liked holding onto his forearm. That was going to take some analyzing, and she suspected her therapist would have a field day with it.

"Wait, you'd take her with you and leave us here?" demanded Dawn. "No way!"

"She'd be in danger too," pointed out Andrew. "You've heard the dreams!"

"Yeah, but what's coming… well, that's enough to make me think she ought to be with me," said Spike, frowning. "None of you have a clue what's happening with that, do you? The bad guys are all getting it together now. They know the big guy has an inside track this time, and they're zeroing in on the Poof."

Dawn frowned. "What does Angel have to do with this?"

Spike grinned. "Once upon a time, everything was about Angel. Now they ask me questions like that. What does he have to do with it? Everything. If there's a conspiracy, you can bet I'm only collateral damage."

"No! Spike!" Dawn tried to kick Illyria, who stared down at her with mixed contempt and pity.

"You cannot reason with this," said Illyria. "He is in fact part of a conspiracy, just not the one you think. He and Angel have conspired to hide the truth of Angel's mission from you. They have conspired to obfuscate."

Spike scowled. "Oh, give the game away, why don't you?"

"You are the badguy?" asked Dana, confused.

"No, this is a good conspiracy," said Spike.

"Then why not let us in on it!" spat Dawn.

"I could gag her," offered Illyria.

Spike scowled. "It's not my secret to keep. Nor yours. It's hers, and right now she doesn't even know it. What kind of ogre would I be if I went around stealing people's body's secrets?"

"Now he's crazy!" complained Dawn.

"Seriously, I can gag her," said the blue demon, scowling.

Spike shook his head. "No gagging."

Dawn was scowling at him. "We will find you, you know."

"Yeah, but by then I should be done sorting all this out." He glanced at his arm, where Dana still had a deathgrip on him. "Come on, pet. That'll get me all sorts of trouble with your Watcher. He'll be looking for blood when he comes after us."

She still didn't have any words for him. He sighed, tugging her closer by bringing his arm closer to his body, pulling it right up against his chest so she was at arms-length to him. She was shaking, just a little bit.

"You know I don't fool around with the important stuff, pet," said Spike softly. "No fooling, now. We're heading out."

Connor was playing with a cell phone idly while he watched Illyria closely. "Two hours till," he said. "We could still pull a Panama."

"Panama?" said Dana.

"Never mind," said Spike. "Look, I do this, okay? Secret plans, stab my friends in the back. Leave them behind because I don't work by committee."

He paused, and Dana tightened her grip. "Please," she said, not even sure just what she was asking. She could see on his face that he was very close to letting her come along, and she wanted to go with him.

He scowled, glancing at Illyria. "No, she won't."

Illyria raised an eyebrow. "If you say so."

"I do!"

Connor cleared his throat. "Watcher-boy called for backup."

"What?" said Spike, surprised.

Andrew, tied up beside Dawn, flushed. "Sorry," he squeaked.

"How'd you know?" asked Spike.

"I didn't," said Andrew glumly. "I guessed. It was too much, the demon knowing you, the other dreams. Visions. I know you don't like being weighed down by us."

Dawn stared at him. "You never used to do things like this," she said.

"Like this? You mean like a mad dash off to regain my soul in Africa while you're facing off with Red? Like a mad dash to destroy Wolfram and Hart and save Angel? Or a mad dash to give Drusilla her soul back? Or a mad dash to save Illyria? Mad dashes into the night are my new specialty, kiddo."

Dawn drew her chin up. "You don't have to be reckless. What are you trying to prove?"

Spike shrugged. "I'd like to say nothing, but I do have a bit at stake here, don't I?"

Dana tried not to laugh, because she was pretty sure that the word stake here wasn't meant as a pun and wasn't funny at all. It was hard.

Dawn waited patiently for him to explain himself, but he remained mute, frowning back at Dana now. "Are you sure?" he asked. "I am—and nobody knows better than you!—pretty poor company at best."

"Positive," she said, emulating his own strident tone.

He chuckled. "I may be sure of myself all the time, but am I right? Never mind, we'll sort that out."

"And thus he sets his own destruction in place," said Illyria with a defeated tone.

"Crap, I forgot about that part," said Connor.

"How did you know Andrew sent for help?" asked Illyria.

"Eh? Oh, I keep tabs," said Connor vaguely.

"US military likes to keep an eye on the Slayers," said Spike.

"You're still in cahoots with Riley!" said Dawn, shocked.

"Never stopped, love," replied Spike. "Much like my other little conspiracies. Why does your lot always think I'm some sort of toothless ally who sits around on his hands, like Angel? I'm a networker. I make new friends, find new enemies, always in motion."

Dawn stared at him frostily. "Are you going to take me along with you and Dana?"

Spike glared back. "Are you going to admit to me that you've been sleeping with Watcher-boy?"

She blinked, shocked. Andrew let out a burbling gasp, sure that his death had finally arrived.

"And how long have you known?" asked Dawn, still trying to maintain control of the situation.

"Well, ever since I asked Xander, actually," drawled Spike. "See, I may be emotionally distant just now, but I have been keeping tabs on you from a distance. I've known… since before Andrew came back with me."

"Xander knows," said Dawn, her voice small.

"Yes, and he's still waiting on being told. Isn't he a wonderful guy?" asked Spike sarcastically. "You want me to be open with you? You might start by being open with me."

Andrew screwed his eyes shut. Dawn spared him a glance, then scowled at Spike. "How dare you judge me? You've established a psychic bond with a hell-goddess!"

"But I was honest about it. Can you say that much? Even your best friends don't know about this!"

"I told my sister," said Dawn quietly. Spike didn't bother nailing the point home.

"And the way you treat him—what's more important, the cause or your relationship?" Spike stopped abruptly, thinking about that. Dawn started to answer, but he held up a hand. "Blast! I asked another one."

"Another what?" asked Dana.

"A question I don't actually know the answer to. Now I have to untangle this. Blast!"

Dana shook her head. "But you always say that your friends are more important than the mission."

"I say it, I live it, but why? I don't actually know it! I just assume it! Gah!" He scrubbed his face with his free hand. "All right, fruit loop, we're going." He turned and began moving, and she followed in his wake, still holding his forearm.

"Dana!" yelled Dawn. "Wait!"

Spike stopped and waited. Dana had been planning to keep walking. Stopping might mean the Watchers would tell her to fight Spike, and she wasn't going to do that.

Spike waited patiently, and Dawn was staring at him and scowling, not at Dana. Dana kind of liked that. She didn't like it so much when she was the center of attention.

"Be careful," Dawn said finally, grudgingly.

When all the others were gone and they were left alone Andrew cleared his throat. "Be careful?" he repeated, a note of disbelief in his voice.

"That stinking rat!" seethed Dawn.

"Be careful?" repeated Andrew.

"What? She was going with him! She chose him over us, and she wasn't going to try to stop him—did you see how she wouldn't look at me?" Dawn sighed, leaning back on the couch. "Now we're tied up. Who's coming to save us? Faith? Giles?"

Andrew coughed. "Willow."

"Willow?"

"She said she'd been on the next plane."

"That's fifteen hours. What about somebody in the country?"

"They were… busy."

Dawn frowned. "So, it's up to us to get untied."

"Oh, it shouldn't be too hard. Illyria gave me the old nudge-wink routine, and never tied my left hand."

"What!"

"What? I'm not going to go after them! They're scary! And I'm still just glad Spike didn't tear my head off!"

Dawn sighed, leaning against him. "Am I the only one who finds it super convenient that Spike is making overtures to the Slayer right at the moment he's about to run away from us and might need her on his side?"

Andrew thought about it. "You can be pretty cold blooded," he said finally.

"To think of that?"

"No, I mean, Spike doesn't do things like that. Not in cold blood. He'll do some pretty vicious things, but never just… thought out like that. Well, he does, but not to his friends."

"And you're still sure we're his friends?"

"Left hand? Hello?"

Dawn sighed. "Are you going to untie me?"

"Hm, maybe." Andrew started untying her, barely managing to stifle a giggle. "How about that, huh? Spike gave you the morally outraged look, and he pulled it off."

Dawn scowled at him, clearly unamused. "Thanks, Andy. We're tied up, he took a Slayer off to who knows where, and you're geeking out."

"Oh, I think I know where," said Andrew, turning so that she could untie him now that her hands were free.

"What? Where?"

Andrew let out a sigh, wiggling his hand free and rubbing his wrist, keeping his eyes down. "Do you remember when Connor first called?"

--

Spike kicked the door in.

It was an easy thing to say, but much harder to do. Especially when the door was a steel-reinforced monstrosity with giant rivets giving it an imposing look. It sailed through the air like a kite, looking weightless, till it slammed down and tore a hole in the wooden floor, dropping into the basement with a crash.

Spike didn't stroll through the door, or tiptoe through. He stalked in angrily.

He was in his battle armor, the brown leather outfit that was a twin of the one Illyria wore. She stood at his left side, a scowl on her face. Connor, at Spike's other side, had a sword that he twirled from hand to hand.

Dana hung back. The team hadn't done any prepwork; they had just started moving. No talk of who would do what.

She didn't like that. It wasn't how Spike had taught her to do this sort of thing. You were supposed to plan and coordinate and make your targets feel intimidated by your authoritarian and prepared manner.

The man sitting in the middle of the room had a gun, and he was shaking as he pointed it at them. "Hold it right there!" he barked.

He was a big fat man, with a greedy scowl. Dana already didn't like him.

"Aw, did your girls tip you off?" asked Spike, striding forward. The man never fired, still shaking, as Spike picked him up off the ground and threw him into the wall. He clattered to the ground loudly.

Connor marched up to the desk and kicked it, knocking it over. "Anything new in the Seer business, Daegstron?"

"Here's the thing," said Spike, hauling the big man to his feet. "I know a Seer. My former Sire is a Seer. I have an affinity for them. Not to mention my general disdain for a guy who pimps out women—no matter what part of them he's taking advantage."

"I take good care of my girls!" blustered the big man, trying to struggle free of Spike's iron grip.

"Right," said Spike, softly. Dangerously. "I want to talk to the girls. Can I do that?"

Connor had already begun rifling through the sideways desk drawers. "Who is this guy who paid you all this money?" he asked suspiciously.

"What are you doing?" squeaked Daegstrom.

"It was too convenient," replied Connor. "You think I don't have contacts? I'm the thinker of the team. Spike's just the muscles."

"What was too convenient!" demanded Daegstrom.

"The psychic energies required to manufacture a vision that specific could only have been generated by a Seer-mill like yours," said Spike. "Oh, didn't think we could have figured out they were manufactured? Wouldn't have, except for Connor."

"And an anonymous tipoff," said Connor sarcastically. "Of course, that was you. You figured on getting me all worked up—hiding in plain sight—being just another source on this. You forgot one, stupid."

"One what?"

"One Seer." Connor straightened up and glided over beside Spike to stare down at the big man. "My dad, you ninny! He's a direct conduit to the higher powers these days, or did you miss that memo? It was a big red flag to us when he didn't get the memo that Spike was in danger. Worse yet, you failed to even try to cover the astral trail."

"I have a nose for these things," proclaimed Illyria smugly. Dana noted that the goddess had turned to face her, eyeing the Slayer closely.

As the others continued to threaten the big man Illyria approached Dana carefully, her stalked pace slowing to a mere stride as she walked towards Dana. "You should know that they plan to kill this man," she said quietly. "If you wish to interfere, now is the time."

Dana was having trouble following the whole conversation, but she'd caught the part about Seer-pimping. She wasn't sure exactly what that entailed, but her stomach was already roiling.

"Slayer-rules."

Illyria arched an eyebrow. "You are a Slayer, yes."

"I'm not playing by their rulebook right now." It was very much a Spike thing to say, and she was proud of it.

Illyria smiled. "Well, they don't actually plan to kill him anyway. That was my plan, but I got vetoed."

"How do you get all this communicating done when you never talk!" blurted Dana, surprised. Somehow it seemed they were unraveling some sort of conspiracy while at the same time making decisions, all without a word passing between them.

Illyria sighed. "Generally, between Spike's telepathy and Connor's command of technology, we manage."


	8. Unraveling

Title: If I should die before we wake

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or situations, or concepts, or anything, really.

Summary: After the events described in Deconstructing Hell Spike, Andrew and Dana are menaced by a shadowy threat to Spike's life. You should read DH first.

Rating: T, because Spike is violent, rude, crude, and the bad guys are worse. Well, that's a lie. The bad guys are never worse than Spike.

Chapter 8: Unraveling

--

"It was too convenient," Spike explained, gulping at a diet coke while trying to work his way through the menu in front of him. Dana supposed this was what a date would feel like, if you had to go on every date with several super-powered chaperones.

Of course, the chaperones wouldn't be much good if they weren't superpowered, considering that both she and Spike were superpowered.

"And so you figured out there was a conspiracy just from the convenience of your death?"

"Naw, but Connor smelled a rat. We didn't know whose conspiracy it was—W and H, any one of a million people we've ticked off—so we didn't know how deep it was. We didn't communicate visibly because they can pick up on that. There's no surer way to tell your enemies what you're up to than to tell your friends."

Connor was going through a folder full of papers. He sighed heavily. "You know some guy named Boris Krisnoff?"

Spike scowled. "I've heard the name. He's a player, isn't he?"

"I think he must be. He blew some serious non-cash settlement on our boy Daegstrom."

Spike sighed, turning back to Dana. "See? There were loose threads, things that didn't quite add up. So Connor did his usual work of picking at it."

"The thing with the tip-off from the Seer was that Daegstrom keeps those girls under lock and key. They don't have access to a phone unless he gives it to them. He doesn't like us; he wouldn't want to tip us off." Connor continued to sort papers as he explained. "Hey, Mikey has been around recently."

Dana was a little bit happy that they'd left Daegstrom tied up and had taken all the girls out put them all on a bus to go see Angel's friend in LA. She'd never met the LA friend Spike had mentioned, but was pretty sure that she must be a step up from Daegstrom. She could be a horrible ogre and she would be a step up.

She didn't want to dwell too long on the punishments Connor and Spike had doled out. They had their own ideas of justice, and if they didn't mesh too well with the Slayer ideals, they meshed very well with Dana's own half-crazed ideas.

--

Barclay covered his eyes with one hand, trying to hide the laughter. Lucy's mouth was hanging open just a tad.

Dawn glowered at them, and Andrew, by her side, was carefully picking at the buttons on his shirt, his eyes down.

"You lost him," said the tall demon incredulously.

"Kri," said Barclay, in a fairly strangled voice.

The tall demon sighed, turning away. Lucy shook her head. "Okay, to repeat that question in a slightly better way. Where is he now?"

"We have suspicions," said Dawn. It was almost a grousing tone of voice. "No solid leads yet."

"He travels fast, the dark avenger," murmured Andrew. Dawn sent him a murderous glare. "Um, and he's sneaky."

Barclay couldn't stop laughing. He was trying very hard, but he couldn't. "What's so funny?" asked Lucy finally, turning and snapping at him. He still couldn't stop laughing. He tried, managing to choke the words out.

"We're here following leads that indicate he might be plotting against you. You're here because of Seers and dreams that indicate he's going to kill you. And still he managed to have a better plan than you, to be more prepared!"

Dawn shook her head, but didn't say anything.

Andrew knew what was going through her head. He'd helped put together the eventuality plans they'd gone over carefully. He knew just what was happening as they spoke, and which field agents had already been called in.

But they weren't going to tell a rogue demon hunter with spotty allegiances about that.

Or a demon. They had rules.

Andrew was silent for now, but that was mostly because he had some serious worries settled on his shoulders. Beyond the ones that were obvious.

The obvious were bad enough. His Slayer had run off with Spike. Spike had run off. Spike knew about his romance with Dawn. His romance with Dawn was on the rocks. There was a conspiracy to kill the Slayers. Spike might or might not be in on that conspiracy.

And beyond that was where his real troubles started.

He was somewhat glad that Lucy had brought the rogue demon hunter and his pet demon back here. But right now they were just in the way, especially since Andrew was pretty sure that absolute secrecy was required for what he knew was coming next.

And he hated keeping secrets from Dawn. It was making his stomach turn to hold this back from her. He wanted to tell her, very badly, just how enmeshed he was in Spike's organization, and just what he knew.

But that would be a betrayal, wouldn't it? Turning Spike's secrets over to people who would run roughshod over them.

Andrew kept his eyes on the floor, trying to sort out his loyalties.

--

"Now, what's the problem?" asked Spike, carefully lifting Illyria up over his head so that she could reach the fire escape.

Connor, standing beside him, scowled. "Do we have to get into this now?"

"Yes, I think so," said Spike. Illyria got a grip and pulled herself up. He watched her go, a scowl on his face. "It's been bugging you for a while, and I would have called you on it before, but we were busy."

Connor sighed, turning to the door and kicking it down. As the alarm blared he drew the sword off his back and marched into the office. Office workers scattered as he approached. "It's Dana. You know it's Dana. Why ask?"

"What about Dana?" persisted Spike, following him. Dana trailed behind him.

She really wished they wouldn't talk about her as if she wasn't there. It was rude.

Connor kicked a security guard who came running, sending him crashing through a wall. "First of all, isn't crazy a step back for you?" he asked nastily. Dana didn't like that at all. She'd forgotten about Spike and his relationship with the crazy vampire; that had been a long time before she'd gotten out of the looney bin.

Spike pushed a file clerk who was looking heroic out of his way, bouncing the unfortunate worker off a filing cabinet, which toppled over to crash down on the floor.

"Not fair," he muttered. "That's a far different thing."

"Is it?"

Another guard, this one a tall demon, lumbered forward, lowering his head to point bullish horns at Connor. As he charged Spike stepped forward, grabbing his horns and flipping him into the wall.

"Cripes!" growled Spike. "You know what? You're as bad as the others!"

"Well, they aren't exactly wrong," said Connor, pointing his sword at a man in a suit who'd been about to run. "You! Where's the main office?"

He pointed with a trembling hand. Dana was having trouble hearing Connor and Spike argue over the loud screams and the louder sounds of destruction as they stalked through the hallways.

"So you agree with them?" asked Spike.

"Well, that's harsh. Let's say I agree with their concerns. I think they're valid concerns. Shall we talk about those concerns?"

"That I'm in love with a crazy person who can't fully return nor understand my affections?" snarked Spike.

"That was Dru, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well, let's look at this. Dana has been crazy. I know she's getting better, but how well does she understand it? Next point. What exactly about her attracts you? And don't say the Slayer part."

"Nah. Well, there is a part of it… it's part of her. Part of her character. But more than that, just the way she is. Her character. Altogether. That makes no sense. I'm bloody rambling."

"Well, yeah," said Connor. "In a way, that's a good sign. Hey, Dana."

Dana hurried to match their pace. "What?"

"Let me ask you this; do you think you know Spike very well?"

That was an entirely unfair question. She had to think about it a little bit first. "Maybe not as well as you," she said hesitantly.

Connor waved it off. "Maybe I don't know him that well," he said breezily, punching a demon that leapt out at them.

Spike attacked it, and Connor stepped back. "This part, I know," said Connor. "This is all I know, really. We fight together. That's what family does. We have each other's back. That's all we do. I don't really know anything about the whole poetry and romance crap he totes around on his sleeve."

"His sleeve?"

"Figure of speech. I mean I can see it's there, but I don't know anything about it. And that's the part that's important right now—well, almost as important as the violence right now. You see my point?"

"Um, a little." Dana didn't want to admit how intimidated she was by the very brash, very free-talking teenager. She was pretty sure he was younger than her.

He was a cheerful killer, an outgoing person among people brutalized and scarred. She had no idea how he managed to be so well-adjusted and yet to lethal at the same time.

"So, how well do you know Spike? What do you know about the flowery and poetic side of him?"

"I know he doesn't like it when people call him flowery and poetic. Even –no, especially when he is."

Spike turned to her, scowling. "I am not flowery and poetic."

"I see what you mean," said Connor sagely, rubbing his chin and then backhanding a security guard trying to sneak up on him. "Of course, there remains the question; is he good enough for you?"

"What?" said Dana, surprised.

"He's a surly, ugly nasty person, and is often not nice at all. Is that the kind of person you deserve?"

Spike sighed, the heat draining out of his face. "No, it's not. Blast it!"

Connor smiled, kicking in a door. The woman behind it glared at him.

"Connor. How nice to see you again," she said. Her teeth were gritted.

Connor smiled, and it was a chilly smile. "Lilah Morgan. Formerly a lawyer, still held in contract to the great muckity-mucks. Hey, Lilah, someone's trying to kill Spike! Know anything about it?"

Spike stormed into her office and sat down in a chair, hurling himself into it. "Feel free to lie, love," he said. "We don't care one way or the other. We're just here to roust out your little lawyers."

"I don't suppose the legality of your little adventure will dissuade you," she said. "Nor the men with guns."

Spike held up a gun he'd snagged somewhere when Dana wasn't looking. "These things? Yeah, right."

She sighed, sitting down behind the desk. "Perhaps I should just bill you for my time."

"You're dead," said Spike. "You have all the time in the world. And then a little more."

She sighed. "Why do people think that between the two of us, I'm the one who's still evil?"

"Because I employ my snark and torture—often one and the same—to save the future of this world and these people. Now, love, I have to ask; did you think I wouldn't figure it out?"

"How'd you find us out?" she asked. "We didn't take the payment we were owed from Boris."

"Ah, you see, that's the thing; I didn't," he said smugly. "I just came over on a hunch."

She stared at him icily. "You mean you had no idea that I knew about his diabolical schemes."

"Lilah, your office has been in on the last hundred and twelve attempts on my life and sanity. The odds were simply against you," said Spike. And his voice was full of contempt.

"She just said it was the Boris dude, right? You owe me dinner," said Connor, absently, as he continued to rifle through Lilah's things.

Lilah scowled at them. "You know, this is humiliating, and not in a small way. Client confidentiality is supposed to mean something."

"Now, I'm curious," said Spike, leaning forward. "You're not zombiefied or really corporeal in the traditional sense, so that means you're a ghost. The desouled variety, and since the soul is usually the actual ghost part of the ghost, that means you're something special."

"A cocktail of several different concepts, actually," said Lilah. "All bound together by the traditional 'sold my soul to the devil' clause."

"See, it bugs me," said Spike. "When I've killed a baddie, I like them to stay killed."

Lilah understood Spike a little less than she understood Angel, but at least she knew when they were treading on dangerous ground. She choose not to say anything, knowing that if she set him off things might get worse.

And Spike might not be able to hurt her, but the people she'd sold her soul to could make her suffer a lot. Especially if she made Spike angry and he did even more damage than usual.

She could hear the sounds of more fighting elsewhere, and knew that the blue-skinned hell goddess (who had actually been a rather clever idea at first, Lilah thought; bring Armageddon in the skin of Angel's friend, break his heart and the world at the same time! If only Spike and Angel didn't have a seemingly unending supply of ability to turn her greatest tools against her) was now taking out the backup that was supposed to descend upon Spike and Connor and make them leave.

She wasn't too surprised by that.

Spike smiled, a twitchy little smile. "An exorcism might not help you, but I was thinking that maybe a blessing might."

"Bless me? You?" She stifled a laugh. Sometimes she really didn't understand his non-linear trains of thought.

He grinned in that unsettling way of his. "An official blessing, you see. A 'get out of hell free' card. I can't guarantee it'll wipe your soul clean and all that—still working the bugs out on that—but I can guarantee that it'll give you a second chance."

She watched him, entirely afraid now. The look on his face was beyond smug, and into psychotic. She knew that grin. "I've gone too far for second chances, Spike."

"I know." He began to bless her quietly, obviously a little embarrassed to be caught knowing the words. His hand performed the sign of the cross as he spoke, and she watched the fingers, captivated.

"I don't think it counts unless performed by an official priest," she said finally.

"About a billion Protestants out there disagree with you, love. But I went and got my collar, just in case." He peeled back the high collar of the leather armor he wore, revealing a stiff white collar. "Ordained, you might say."

"You're ordained." She was stymied.

"Nothing vampires and baddies hate worse than religion, right?" He chuckled. "I always talked to God, anyway. Getting religion just gave him a chance to shout back at me."

Lilah was all too aware that she was dead. The next realm—whatever afterlife there was—was a scary place. She knew that there, the Senior Partners didn't have the power to protect her. That was why they kept their employees here.

And she wasn't foolish enough to think that his blessing would wipe her slate clean.

But he was right. It gave her a second chance. That meant that the Senior Partners lost their fingerhold on her, lost their grasp. For just a second, she was beyond them. At least until she could re-pledge herself to their cause.

But she wasn't thinking straight, because, of course, a dead person can't re-pledge themselves.

She was dead, and without the partners' protection, it was sticking.

She slumped to the floor.

--

Grace wasn't stupid. The other Slayers and the Watcher had all said that the situation was under control, and that the former vampire named Spike was under control. They told her to be calm.

When the back of her neck tingled and a bleached-blonde vampire in a leather coat strolled into the dorm as if he didn't need an invitation, she didn't bother asking questions. She hit the alarm and she went for the weapons.

Slayer dreams were not intended to make you quiver, shake and quake, contrary to the views of some of the girls. They were not merely to entertain the powers that be. They were not some sort of power trip.

They were a warning. Grace understood warnings. A warning like this meant that you would only have one chance, and then you might die even after having been warned.

The vampire pounced before she could get to the wall with the weapons, knocking her aside. He didn't speak, just throwing blows at her with solid precision.

She couldn't block them all, and the blows were harder than any a vampire ever threw. She was knocked across the floor, spinning down the hall. She tried to roll to her feet but he was there again, kicking her.

She could hear the others preparing a strike, gathering their weapons . But Grace's mind was in motion again, and she knew what was necessary.

If he was truly as dangerous as the dreams had indicated, he might be able to wipe them all out.

She dove for a window, smashing through it. The impact left a million bright flares of pain on her skin, and she could feel sticky warmth flowing from a thousand cuts.

She hit the ground running, determined to lure him away from the others.

But the dream hadn't mentioned his army of vampires waiting in a ring around the dorm. They didn't have permission. They couldn't enter. (and how had he, anyway? Save it for later, Grace, save it for later)

She managed to knock one down and dust another before they descended on her, howling.

--

Spike was nursing a glass of water, huddled deep in the diner's booth, the coat around him forming a protective shell of antipathy. Illyria and Connor had taken another booth and were going through the papers Connor had stolen, trying to find Boris.

Dana sat opposite Spike, working on a dish of ice cream.

"It's just typical that it's a bad guy I've never met or even punched in the face that wants me so bad he might get me," muttered Spike.

Dana tried to swallow so she could reply, then decided that she didn't really have anything to say to a comment like that, so she went on half-chewing the mouthful of ice cream.

Spike's eyes had a dead look that she didn't like. It was sometimes like that after a mission, but especially right now.

He glanced at Connor and Illyria, who weren't watching them, and took the gun out of his pocket.

Dana stared at it for a minute. Seeing him with a gun made her heart flip-flop, and she was sure that wasn't trust. But it was a gut feeling she couldn't ignore, that Spike with a gun was dangerous.

"I need a very big favor from you, pet," said Spike, sliding the gun across the table to let it lie beside her ice cream. He pulled his hand back as if it was burned.

"A shavorh?" she whispered through a mouthful of ice cream.

"The way they're talking, this Boris guy is onto something. He's got something on me. The last person to do that was the First Evil, and she got in my mind. Turned me against the ones who needed me the most. Put a trigger in my head. If that were to happen now… I've place myself in the position of being the last defense for a lot of people. If I turn on them, I'm behind all the other defenses. I could do a lot of damage. Angel, Faith, Buffy, Dawn, Illyria, Connor… and you. I don't want that."

"I won't shoot you," said Dana, after swallowing.

Spike glowered at her. "The thing is, nobody else will do it," he said. "Not many else are physically capable. You are. And you're close enough I trust you to tell the difference between me and someone wearing my body like a glove. And the gun… I'm not bulletproof. Not like Illyria. We've seen that before, eh? That cop in the Andes?"

"I won't shoot you." Now she couldn't hear the quaver in her voice, so it sounded a lot better.

"Naturally, love. Naturally. Only you're more likely to do it than anybody else." He gave her one of his brooding looks that, oddly, made her very, very uncomfortable. In a good kind of way. That was always weird.

Connor came over to their booth, setting his knuckles on the table and leaning in. "The bastard has an army of vampires and bought faked Slayer dreams. And he's not after you; he's definitely after the Slayers."

"It's never about me," sighed Spike. "And if it's not Angel, it's the Slayers for sure."


	9. Imagination

Title: If I should die before we wake

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or situations, or concepts, or anything, really.

Summary: After the events described in Deconstructing Hell Spike, Andrew and Dana are menaced by a shadowy threat to Spike's life. You should read DH first.

Rating: T, because Spike is violent, rude, crude, and the bad guys are worse. Well, that's a lie. The bad guys are never worse than Spike.

Chapter 9: Imagination

--

Andrew didn't even bother letting Dawn know he was leaving.

It was a strange feeling, being the renegade. Being the one out of control.

More than strange. It was exhilarating.

In that terrifying kind of way.

The minute he'd heard the first reports about Spike and an army of vampires attacking one of their safe houses, he'd known that he had to do it. He'd known that nobody would agree with him, that there would be arguing, that people might stop him.

So he had to do it alone.

He shifted into fourth gear, just managing to keep the gears from grinding. Spike wasn't going to be happy if he ever learned that Andrew had stolen his Jag—a carefully kept secret.

But right now Andrew was a little angry.

The whole thing had been very well done. Spike and an army of vampires. It was what everybody was afraid of, right?

Except that Spike's vampires were chipped, and technically worked for the US government.

So it was a good lie, a good way to try and turn everyone against Spike. It was almost flawless.

But Andrew had found the flaw.

Nobody else would believe it, he knew. Everybody could see the evil festering in Spike. Nobody read his carefully written reports. They assumed he was just Spike's little fanboy.

Andrew shifted up again, and this time the gears did grind. He grimaced.

The thing was, he might be Spike's friend, but he wasn't his lackey. And he might like Spike, but he also happened to have a higher purpose in life, thanks to Buffy and Dawn. Protect the Slayers.

And right now, if he knew the woman he loved anywhere near as well as he thought he did, she would be getting ready to go to war with Spike. Despite the fact that she loved the bull-headed former vampire. It was what she did.

He had a different war to fight right now.

The phone in his pocket jangled. The soothing sounds of Elton John filled the car for a second, before Andrew snapped the phone open. "Riley?"

"Listen, you stupid punk kid!" snarled back an unfamiliar voice.

Well, mostly unfamiliar.

"Is Riley there?"

The voice changed slightly. Andrew knew from experience that she was putting her game face away. "Andrew? I thought this was Dawn's cell phone."

"Sorry, Harmony."

"Oh. Do you know where I can reach her? I need to yell at her a little bit."

"Harmony… yelling at the person who's demanding you surrender your leader won't help."

"Maybe I should kidnap her again."

"You kidnapped her?"

"Yeah, back when I was evil…er. Riley isn't here."

"Could you tell him to call me back?"

"I called you."

"But I've been leaving messages on his service!"

"Oh. Well, I'll tell him. But he's busy right now."

"Busy?"

"Well…we're in the middle of doing the strike team thing on Spike's well-toned and muscular butt."

"Crap!"

--

Dana wondered just why Spike was crying. It wasn't as if he'd known any of the dead Slayers, or as if he'd killed any of them. Sure, it was a bad thing, but it wasn't his fault. It was Boris' fault.

Connor shut the phone quietly. "Most of them escaped. Apparently one of them had the presence of mind to try to escape out the front, and when she figured out the house was surrounded she tripped the self-destruct. The girls scattered. Only five dead so far, according to Willow."

"So far?" asked Illyria. Her voice was surprising cold and angry.

"Some of them barely made it away. One of them was drained of blood, and the others dragged her body with them. She's not expected to make it."

Dana felt a little sad, but she wasn't crying.

Spike kept his hand over his face. "I'm gonna need a minute," he said, his voice muffled, standing up and heading for the bathrooms.

Dana watched him go, then turned to Illyria. "What's wrong with him?"

Illyria frowned. "Ultimately, the blame for this lies not with him. He understands this. But he can't help feeling responsible. He has always placed himself in a position to protect the Slayers. He considers it his duty to be 'where the bad things are happening.' His duty." She frowned down into her coffee.

"I want this Boris guy, and I want him bad!" growled Connor.

"You might want to rephrase," said Dana automatically. Spike's fondness for a well-placed innuendo was definitely wearing off on her.

"I want him dead!" clarified Connor.

"Ew," said Dana, well aware that now she was just baiting the boy. He scowled at her.

"This is a serious moment," he said. "Only Spike gets to blow the serious moments with misplaced innuendo."

"Sorry."

"You should be! I work very hard at having the serious moments when he's out of the room to avoid situations like that!" It took Dana a second to realize that Connor was kidding around with her. It was an unusual feeling. Nobody really kidded around with her except Spike. And Faith, but she was off being a girlfriend and a vampire's friend, which meant she was angry a lot.

Dana didn't know much about relationships between people, but she knew that they made you angry a lot.

It wasn't surprising that Spike was developing feelings for her, then. There was a lot of anger in him.

"Okay," said Illyria, rubbing her temples. "If Angel doesn't know yet, he will soon. Then he'll come running, out for Spike's blood."

"But there are so many holes in the whole conspiracy!" exploded Connor. "Can't they see that?"

"Emotion clouds judgment. Boris understands that," said Dana. Both of them looked at her in surprise. "I have a lot of that, emotion-clouding," she said, trying to explain. "I get that."

"So does Spike, come to think of it," said Connor, squinting at her.

Illyria nodded. "And the Slayers. Probably the government. Fortunately, we are not without our allies who don't mind Spike trying to kill Slayers, or don't believe it."

"Slayers have emotional issues?" asked Connor.

"No, they're coming, and out for blood."

"Who can find us?" asked Connor, concerned.

"Well, the tracking device implanted under Spike's skin on his arm means that the US government always knows where Spike is. Riley will certainly find us." Illyria smiled smugly. "The Slayers cannot find us, not unless Dana wishes them to. And Angel? Well, he might be able to find Connor, but he no longer has a mental connection with Spike."

Connor sighed, taking out his phone. "Should I call him."

Illyria rolled her eyes in a very Spike-like manner. "Angel is a good man, or vampire, and he means well. He and Spike have a bond of pure hatred, one that has kept them together through thick or thin. But he has his own problems right now."

Connor frowned. "What?"

"He's in the middle of his own conspiracy," she reminded him.

Connor scowled. "The one you won't talk to me about."

"Your father's decision, not mine. He never would have willingly surrendered the information to Spike, either."

"Yeah, what's up with that? I'm supposed to be the brains. How come he does all that thinking and detectiving?"

"Because he is intuitive."

Now Connor rolled his eyes. "It's because he's sneaky, you mean. He went through my dad's stuff at some point."

Illyria smiled. "And now you understand the true meaning of intuition."

Spike returned, his face stony cold, and sat next to Dana. He didn't speak for a moment, his face pensive. Stormy. She watched him uncertainly, wondering how much of what the others had said he had already thought of.

"I've pretty well got it," he said.

Connor sighed. "Not again."

"I know how to find Boris and evade the descending hordes."

Connor frowned. "Wait, what? You mean no suicidal threats? No going toe to toe with the Slayers to prove your innocence?"

"Nah. Don't have any."

Illyria leaned forward. "Your idea is beyond suicidal."

"Love, be quiet," Spike ordered. She sniffed sharply. "There's a fine line between suicide and brilliance. A fine line I happen to love walking all over, all right?"

"Great," muttered Dana.

Spike turned to glare at her. "An' that's the other thing; you aren't coming on this ride."

She frowned. "What happened to taking me with you?"

"Oh, you're coming. You're just not playing," he clarified.

"Too dangerous?"

"For a Slayer? Nah. Too… evil. Even for a crazy Slayer."

Illyria closed her eyes. "No!"

"Yes!" growled Spike.

"Um, can the rest of us hear the plan?" asked Connor.

Illyria shook her head. "No. We won't speak of it, we won't think of it, we won't DO it!" There was a very deliberate anger in her voice.

"It's easy," said Spike. "He wants to kill me, right? At least, it's a secondary goal. Otherwise he wouldn't have gone to the trouble of this elaborate charade. He has armies. He could have just gone into a frontal assault, right?"

Illyria shook her head. "He is pushing towards an ancillary goal that you don't see."

"Big deal. He gets a chance like this, he is coming after me."

Connor got it, and slapped the table. "You want to draw him out by setting up a situation where he can kill you?"

Dana considered it. "But he's really after Slayers, right?"

Spike's face lit up with horror, and then Dana remembered his quick denial when she'd asked if it would be dangerous for her. Of course it wouldn't be dangerous; he didn't want it to be dangerous.

But that was just the way he wanted it, not the way it was.

What he really meant to say was that he didn't intend for her to have any part of this plan, because she could get killed.

"She thinks you're a chauvinist pig," said Illyria, interpreting Dana's glare for Spike.

"No, I think she's just mad because he's suicidal," said Connor.

Illyria sighed. "There's that, too. I wonder which is stronger?"

"Oh, I'd say they work together to stoke the fires of rage," said Connor.

"Shut up!" barked Spike. "He's already killed Slayers, Dana."

It was unheard of for him to use her name, anyone's name. Unheard of and so very, very wrong. She was beginning to understand Spike, and this scared her. "I just want to help."

"But he's ready for you! He's got a plan all put together for taking care of you, for making sure you never, ever bother him, for making sure you can't bother him! Don't you see?"

"He's got the same plan for you," said Dana. Spike could throw words out better than anyone she knew, but she had learned that ability from him. And right now she needed those words, needed to convince him just how much he needed to listen to her.

"Aa!" He clutched his head in both hands. "Stupid, stupid, stupid!"

"Hey!" said Connor.

"I mean me," he replied coldly. "Look, Dana, here's the thing; people I lo—what are you looking at?"

Connor continued to stare at Spike as if he'd grown two heads. "Wow," he said simply.

Dana shifted uncomfortably. "I'm not an expert on these things, but you were about to say love, and I think it freaked him out."

"No, that wasn't the problem," said Connor. "The problem is that up until this point I've been thinking about this Boris guy as a kind of underworld power broker, but I just now realized why his name should have rung a bell."

"Beautiful warrior?" asked Illyria.

"What?" said Spike, annoyed.

"His names. Boris means warrior, and Krisnoff is from the Russian… Krasnov, beautiful." She gave him an annoyed glare. "I thought you understood languages?"

Spike chuckled. "Rich."

Dana shook her head. "Um, not to be the voice of reason, but so what?"

"It's a pseudonym," said Connor. "Not his real name."

Dana thought about it. "Again, so what?"

Spike chuckled. "Oh, that's clever."

"Beautiful warrior?" Illyria was still puzzled. "It's nonsensical."

"No, see, Connor was just thinking about that statement of mine. The one where I said I was in the best position to fight the guy."

Dana got it very quickly then.

"Okay, what? He's a male Slayer?" she asked.

Spike nodded. "I was wrong. We're gonna need the Watcher."

"But that's impossible!" wailed Dana.

"Not impossible. Inevitable," said Connor. "The Slayer power is inherently female, right? Yin and yang. Balance. Everything has an opposite. It's not right to call him a male Slayer, either. He's an anti-Slayer."

Illyria shook her head. "It's a good theory, but it falls apart. Slayers have an opposite. Vampires, which they were created to fight."

"The thing is, what made the guy mad?" asked Spike. "Too many Slayers. An upset in the balance, right?"

Connor was going through his papers. "Okay, she's right, this is just a theory, but his name, the whole situation, not to mention all those little notes in his file about superhuman strength…"

Dana sighed. "You guys just don't want to answer the question. Spike? Why can't I be your bait?"

Spike glowered at her. "Because I risk my life on a regular basis, but I won't risk other people's lives."

"And that bit about love?"

"If it bugs you, think about it as a sort of brotherly love."

"Is it?"

"Maybe, maybe not," he said, infuriating her.

Illyria shook her head. "Balance does not mean there must be a male anti-Slayer! The Slayer themselves are a form of balance—all that power in a little girl who is essentially unstable and neurotic! Sometimes psychotic!"

"Not that often," mumbled Dana.

Spike grumbled something under his breath.

"What was that?" asked Illyria hotly.

"I said hit the deck," he replied, and dove towards Dana, knocking her down to the floor, forcing her to a prone position and holding her there with arms like steel.

Glass shattered somewhere overhead, and Connor yelled. A second later Illyria went flying, tumbling through the air over their heads.

Spike set his shoulders. "When I say run, you bloody run, and if you argue I'll kill you myself!" he hissed.

Then he was up and in motion, fists moving like lightning, clearing a space above them, knocking away men in body armor and black ski masks.

Then Dana felt the tingling begin in her neck, the tingling that meant the vampires had arrived, and she shrieked, climbing to her feet.


	10. The hard way

Title: If I should die before we wake

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or situations, or concepts, or anything, really.

Summary: After the events described in Deconstructing Hell Spike, Andrew and Dana are menaced by a shadowy threat to Spike's life. You should read DH first.

Rating: T, because Spike is violent, rude, crude, and the bad guys are worse. Well, that's a lie. The bad guys are never worse than Spike.

Chapter 10: The hard way

--

There was, fundamentally, one difference between Spike and a vampire.

But right now Dana couldn't seem to remember it.

Spike was whirling his way through the soldiers and vampires, a cyclone of violence let loose on people who couldn't seem to defend themselves.

Yeah, thought Dana sarcastically. Soldiers and vampires. Helpless.

And, yes, that was more of Spike's voice rubbing off on her. Shouldn't that surprise her, or something?

Spike slammed into a vampire, sending it flying. Then he stopped, as if surprised, and executed a hundred and eighty degree spin, coming face to face with another vampire. "Can't hit me?" he asked sympathetically.

"Um…"

"Spike!" A tall rough-looking soldier with a scar was standing in the door, holding an automatic weapon. "Hold it right there!"

Illyria spun to her feet instantly. "Oh, I thought it was the other ones," she said dismissively, brushing her jeans off.

Connor pulled himself out of a corner. "Oh, crap!" he said. "I was looking forward to kicking your butts!"

Spike sighed, raising his hands in the air. "Timing is everything. Homing beacon chip?"

"Naturally," replied the soldier tersely. "I hear you've been killing again."

Spike glanced to Dana. "It's okay. She won't rat us out to the Slayers."

The soldier hesitated. "Are you sure? I mean, I went through a lot of trouble here. I broke the window for you."

Connor jumped down. "He's got some kind of trust thing going on with her. It scares the willies out of me!"

The soldier gave him a flat look. "Are you mocking me?"

"What? No! Not at all!"

"What does that mean, anyway? Scares the willies out of me? That's not how it goes. It's the ba-jeebers," said Spike.

"Stop it!" snapped the soldier. He was scowling now. "You trust her, Spike?"

"Yeah," said Spike idly. "Short round has a name and some info we stole from Wolfram and Hart."

The soldier lowered his rifle. "All right. We have a truck out back ready for extraction. You want to get to the base?"

"Yeah, we can load up for the big showdown," replied Spike. "Of course, I can't bring you lot in on this."

"Of course you can," replied the soldier. "Sam says hi, by the way."

Spike scowled. "Don't try to soften me up. I'm a nasty, horrible person, and I don't care if she cries a river of tears. Don't care! I'm still going this one alone. He's killed Slayers, you git!"

"Oh, and I certainly don't have a soft spot for Slayers," replied the soldier. "Come on, Spike."

Dana moved closer cautiously. She wasn't sure yet, but she might have to hit the soldier. If he was threatening Spike. "What's going on?" she asked.

A vampire put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, you're Dana?"

She jumped. The voice was familiar, but she'd never actually met the blonde. "Aah! Harmony?"

The blonde vampire smiled. She didn't look the way Dana had pictured her. Dana had pictured someone who looked like Buffy—all harsh lines and scowls. This was a sunshine girl, with bouncy, bubbly eyes. Suddenly every harsh word Spike had said about her seemed justified just by her existence.

"What's this I hear about kissing?" asked Harmony coldly.

The soldier immediately moved between Spike and Dana. "Sam, I need an evac team. We have Slayer kissage, in a big way."

"What?" said Dana.

"Talking to my radio," replied the soldier. "Sam, I repeat, we have a code 'Spike kissed the Slayer!'" He turned to Dana. "If you want me to, I'm pretty sure I could kill him right here and right now. I'm just saying."

Dana stared at him. "Why?" she blurted.

The soldier frowned. "Okay, this seems like a weird turn in the conversation. Spike kissed you and you're okay with it? Sam, could you put a double-time on that?"

Spike scowled. "Is it so hard to believe that I could kiss somebody without world-ending ramifications?"

"Somebody, yes. Slayer, no."

Connor shook his head. "It's cool, Riley. They've got some freaky friendly bond thing going on. You know I'd have kicked his butt already if I didn't like it."

"Indeed," said Illyria. "You know that we keep an eye on him."

Riley sighed. "That's not too reassuring, guys. I mean, I appreciate it, but A, I don't know the blue lady, and B, Connor, you're what, eighteen?"

"Nineteen," grumbled the teenager.

"No way you understand the complexities of the human heart. I didn't at your age. I didn't when I was eight years older than you!"

"I didn't when I was a hundred years older than him," said Spike glumly.

"See!" said Riley. "Matters of the heart are complex. And, in this case, life-threatening. Sam, I could really use that backup."

Dana glowered at him. "What'll he bring, more guns? A lie-detector? What?"

Spike chuckled. "She'll bring a beating heart, pet, and a working knowledge of the human heart—something quite of a few of us here are deficient in."

Illyria sniffed. "At least I have an excuse."

--

Andrew carefully adjusted the bow-tie, squinting into the mirror. It looked straight, but he knew that it was inevitable that a female would stop him and adjust it at some point. He wasn't even sure it had to be crooked for that to happen. They had some inner sense of whether you had tied it yourself, he was pretty sure.

Living in large communal quarters with large numbers of them had made him paranoid.

He advanced past the secretary's desk with a nervous smile. She didn't even flinch or make a move for his bow tie, which was a good sign.

As he swung open the large double doors, he reflected that the builders had put a lot of effort into intimidating people who walked in.

Invaders into the good guy's lairs seldom showed any fear. Maybe they needed some awesomely evil drapes like this, or a intimidating set of doors that just exuded raw fear-inducing power. That might cut down the number of times they were attacked in their own homes.

"Ah, Mister… Wells, was it?" purred the man behind the desk. "What can we do for you?"

Andrew cleared his throat. "First of all, I think you can call me Andrew," he said, fighting to keep his voice level as he sat down. The seat was so small he felt like an oversized child in it, having to look up at the desk. "Our organization has done you a number of favors over the years, and I'm here to call a few markers in."

--

Dana wasn't exactly sure how you told a good touch from a bad touch. All touches elicited the same desire to grab a stake and do some heart-searching, as far as she was concerned.

(well, besides Spike's touches)

But somehow she knew instinctively that needle-touches were not good touches.

The doctor was choking and gagging, and she knocked him against the wall a few times with her elbow against his throat, just to make sure that he got the idea.

Spike, on the other hand, was being very calm about this. He was touching her shoulder, the one on the arm holding the doctor there. He was just letting his hand sit there, but it still made her very uncomfortable.

"Now, love," said Spike, very calmly. "He was just trying to help you."

She couldn't speak. It was hard enough just to hear Spike's words. Why would he pull out a needle and move towards her arm? He hadn't even come close, of course. She was fast, and she was strong, and she wasn't going to let the needle near her arm.

She was strong.

And her hands were shaking so hard.

Spike put his other hand on her other shoulder and gently eased her back. She let the doctor fall to the floor, still shaking. The doctor made some wheezing noises, and Harmony darted in to look at him, checking his pulse quickly, as only a vampire can.

"We have a survivor, boss," she said to Riley.

Riley was standing at the door with Illyria and Connor, both of whom had reacted to keep him and the other soldiers out. Dana ignored them, continuing to back up until she had pushed past Spike and had her back to the wall.

"I could have helped," said Riley patiently.

"You could have had your teeth handed to you," corrected Connor.

"And you might have done irreparable harm to the girl's psyche," said Illyria. "Not that I care or anything. That's Spike. He cares. I don't. I'm just doing what he wants. Not that I care what he wants."

"Right, cuz you're evil," said Connor, grinning at her.

She frowned back at him. "If that leer is at all suggestive I will wipe it from your face."

"Oh, come on," he scoffed. "I could take you."

"What was that needle?" Spike asked the doctor, keeping one hand on Dana's arm.

The doctor coughed. "It was just a broad-spectrum immunization… according to our charts she hasn't had any. She hasn't even seen a doctor in years!"

"If you'd stopped to think you might have realized there's a bloody good reason," said Spike, keeping his voice soothing. He turned to face Dana, being careful not to crowd her. "Bad memories, love?"

She wondered if it was possible to want to throw up and to want to see why people on TV smooshed their lips together all at the same time. Well, obviously it was possible, but she wondered if it was normal.

Her heart was speeding along, and she knew the vampire could hear it. She didn't want to show weakness in front of the vampire. Especially if she was in some strange way competition.

And she wasn't even sure what that meant, really, except that Connor had made a dark comment. One that Illyria hadn't corrected. What did that mean?

Harmony straightened up. "You know, I say we just lock her back up. She's completely batty."

Spike rolled his eyes. "If we judged people by their appearance and first impressions, you'd be on the business end of a stake, Harm." He took his hand off Dana's arm, and she felt a little like crying because it was gone.

She was strong. She made herself stop shaking, crossing her arms and holding her hands under her armpits, holding them still. "I didn't mean to hurt him," she blurted out. "He should have asked. That's what you always say. Ask before you do. You don't know what other people don't like. Ask first."

Spike nodded. "Too bloody right. A'course, I have broken that rule on occasion."

Dana nodded. "Next time ask!" she insisted.

"I will," he said. She could tell he was amused, but she wasn't.

"Can we leave? I don't like this room."

Spike nodded. "We'll just assume she passed the physical, right?"

Harmony shook her head. "No, we won't. We'll let the doctor finish—without needles! Without needles! Ah! I'm a good vampire! I've got a chip and everything!" She rushed away.

Dana wasn't sure whether it was the look she had given the vampire or the look Spike had given her. Either way, it seemed to have worked.

Riley stepped into the room. "Okay, doc?"

The doctor coughed. "Yeah, I think I'll be fine."

"I meant, can we just call that done?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Sure." He clearly didn't want to spend any more time with Dana. That was fine with Dana; she didn't want to spend any more time with him.

Spike rubbed his hands together. "All right, then, let's see if we can't straighten this all out."

Riley sighed, backing out the door and gesturing for them to follow him. "I don't know why we even bother with protocols and regulations when we let you back on the base. First it was 'oh, I don't like surrendering my weapons at the door.' Then it was 'oh, I don't want to let your psychics probe me to make sure I'm really me.' Then it was 'oh, I don't like the Demons-must-be-chipped-on-the-base rule.' Now the doctors?"

"I gotta be me," said Spike with a smirk.

"Much as we all wish he could be a good-looking and popular movie star instead," said Connor. "Mm. And female."

Spike glanced back at Connor with a horrified look. "If you ever even imply that you might have the hots for me ever again I'll bloody kill you. Not that you don't have good taste, but still… you're my uncle, my grand-uncle, my nephew, my cousin, my brother, my … no, I think that covers it. That's gross, mate!"

Connor shrugged. "It runs in the family."

They walked through a large set of double doors into a large room with a big table. There were chairs around the table, and a female soldier sat at the head of the table reading the papers Connor had brought along.

"What is this note? Possibly male Slayer? That's bull," she said, looking up at Connor. "There's no such thing. According to our resident Slayer/Watcher combo-kit, it's impossible."

"But look at the clues!" insisted Connor, sitting down beside her. Riley crossed over to sit on her other side, and put one arm on the back of her chair to lean over her shoulder and read the report.

Dana thought that his proximity to her was a bit much. She would probably kill anybody (except Spike) who tried to get that close. It was almost threatening and possessive, the way he violated her personal space.

Spike absently pulled out a chair for Dana. She wasn't sure exactly how you were supposed to sit down with somebody holding a chair for you, so she grabbed the chair next to it and sat down.

Spike didn't move, and Illyria moved forward, standing there regally and gracefully while Spike moved the chair back in. She sat down as if Spike had meant the chair for her all along.

Dana was blushing, but nobody else seemed to have noticed. They were all arguing about whether Boris was a male Slayer.

Spike sat down next to Dana. "What about the other note about possible suborning my free will?"

"The trigger note? That did worry me a bit," said Riley. "But I can't see anywhere he's tried that. Mostly he seems to have harnessed your vampire half, which I thought you killed."

"I did," said Spike. "Twice now. It's not me, it must just look like me. According to the report it had strength greater than a normal vampire. That's not me. And I think there may have been some thrall going on, although the only vampires I ever met who could do that were Dru and Dracula."

"You've met Dracula?" asked Connor, whipping his head around.

"Gypsy ponce still owes me money," grumbled Spike. "This guy has more power than me. Bottom line, it's some master vampire tricked out to look like me. There are glamours that can do that."

"Which brings me back to my point, you don't come on base without a scan from a psychic," said Riley.

"Idiot. The vamps will know if it's me or not. If I'm not a human, and trust me, they can tell, they'll let you know."

"What if the glamour masks that? I can't take that chance, Spike." He made a quick motion with one hand, and a short fat man in a robe entered through the double doors.

"No psychics in my head," said Spike shortly, crossing his arms. "I'm here with Illyria, aren't I? We share a psychic bond. She can tell if I'm me."

"What if it's not really Illyria?" Riley shot back.

Spike glowered. "All right, fine. But in, and out!"

The seer gave a scream and clutched his temples. "Ow! Ow! That was unnecessary," he said.

"Is it really Spike?" asked Riley.

"Yes, it is. Ow!" The Seer turned and waddled away.

Riley watched him go with a frown. "Did you just try to break my psychic?"

"I can't help it," said Spike defensively. "My mind is very defensive. I don't like people poking around in there!"

Riley sighed. "Back on topic. So we have an uber-Spike out there somewhere? Does anybody have any ideas on tracking it down?"

"Find the master, find the servant," said Spike.

"Not the bait idea again!" said Illyria, slamming a fist onto the table. It made a creaking noise.

Connor crossed his arms, a thoughtful look on his face. "Hold up a bit. Just a minute ago you said—?"

"Bloody woman! It's my risk to take!"

"I could take it," said Dana.

"No!" said Spike.

"And how is your no any different than her no?" asked Dana.

Spike's jaw dropped. "No fair using logic," he said sullenly, lowering his head into his hands. She had a sudden insane urge to grab him and hold onto him. Or maybe it wasn't so insane, compared to the other urge to start hitting people. She was pretty sure that was more insane.

"Hold up!" said Connor forcefully. "Didn't you just say—?"

Riley cut in. "Actually, that might be a good idea. We could stand by with a counter-strike team of vampires and soldiers, ready to help you out."

Connor stood up, shoving his chair so it fell to the ground. "You have a Slayer here?" he demanded.

Riley nodded mutely.

"And you didn't think that maybe this Slayer might not be working towards the same goal as you?" asked Connor.

"I, um, I didn't tell her I was bringing you here," said Riley. "I'm not stupid, you know. If she was here I'd have you guys in chains."

"Problem!" said Connor. "I'm a reasonably intelligent guy. Kind of high on the charts, you know, in math and stuff. Pretty good with strategy. I could smell this particular plan coming a mile away. Spike?"

"Um, us showing up here? Yeah, I'd have bet money on it," said Spike.

Riley scowled at them. "You guys think in twisty sideways thoughts that nobody else gets, you know that, right?"

Illyria shook her head. "Strategy is a matter of arranging allies and toppling enemies. It is clear that you are one of Spike's allies, and it was only a matter of time before he would turn to you."

"I really don't like hearing that," muttered Spike.

Illyria smiled suddenly, turning to Dana. "Would you like to know something of Spike that he has not shared with another living being?"

Dana stared at the demon. "Um… shouldn't he tell me those, not you? I mean, I'm pretty sure…"

"No, no, no," Illyria said dismissively. "This isn't one of those petty relationship things. This is something you need to know to survive. Spike has survived so far by being a step ahead of the bad things… and the good things. And although you can't see it, his little mind is racing away feverishly."

"S not little," said Spike, offended.

Illyria leaned closer to Dana, so close that Dana felt intruded on. "Do you understand what I am saying?" hissed the bluish demon, her appearance shifting. Her street clothes turned to leather armor, and her skin was suddenly very blue, her eyes shifting and changing, her hair itself becoming blue.

Spike jumped up, kicking the table up into the air. "Move, Connor!" he yelled, grabbing the table in mid air and whirling it through the air.

Connor pushed off, knocking his chair over backwards and somersaulting backwards. The table passed over him and smashed into the doors. Dana could hear someone being knocked backwards.

Riley picked up his radio. "Base security is compromised. All units stand down. We have a friendly fire scenario. I repeat, all units stand down. Do not fire a single shot or I will have your heads!"

Now Dana could hear helicopters overhead. "Who ratted us out?" she asked Spike.

He smiled wanly. "I'm not going to fight Slayers, pet—that means running. You okay with running?"

"I can run," she said.

"Good. We're going to have to do that now."


	11. Fighting Shadows

Title: If I should die before we wake

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or situations, or concepts, or anything, really.

Summary: After the events described in Deconstructing Hell, Spike, Andrew and Dana are menaced by a shadowy threat to Spike's life. You should read DH first.

Rating: T, because Spike is violent, rude, crude, and the bad guys are worse. Well, that's a lie. The bad guys are never worse than Spike.

Chapter 11: Fighting shadows

--

"There's not a lot of leeway here," noted Andrew, watching the robots enter the base. "I mean, you hurt a Slayer or a soldier, and all bets are off."

His companion, a middle-aged dark-haired witch, grimaced. "Yeah, we caught that." She glanced at the soldiers who were retreating, not firing a single shot. "You know, I'm a little insulted at their retreat."

"They think we brought Slayers, and they don't want any friendly fire," replied Andrew.

A Slayer came running down the stairs in front of him. "I have them holed up!" she shouted.

"What are you doing here?" asked Andrew, feeling his stomach drop out from under him.

"I'm the liaison to the army," she replied. "Miss Summers told me to contain them if they showed up, and I did that, although the soldiers aren't helping at all."

Andrew sighed. "Well, nothing to it, then." He jogged up the stairs, the witch and Slayer following closely.

Spike was lounging in a battered doorway, leaning against the wall and playing with a lighter. "Andrew. Should have known you'd find us. Taught you to be devious, I did."

"Actually, Harmony out and out told me," replied Andrew. "Gotta work on that."

Harmony, who was hiding under the table behind Spike, gave an indignant squeak.

"Witches, robots… those aren't Slayers," said Spike, taking a deep breath. "Have you been doing some side-street work?"

"Say rather some important classified work," replied Andrew. "These guys are part of one of those new powers that rose up to fill the voids you've created."

"Basically, evil," said Spike. "The robot blokes look familiar. Didn't they attack Wolfram and Hart once?"

"Overstretching, perhaps," grumbled the witch behind Andrew. "Shall I take him down?"

"Um, no," said Andrew. "Not unless things go badly. Spike, I have you outnumbered and outgunned. And I have a Slayer." He really wished he didn't. It complicated a simple equation. "Let me bring you in. We can all figure it out together."

Spike smiled grumpily. "Now that is just brilliant. But I'm afraid I can't, because you're a bloody fool, and so are all the people you work for."

"You're just dancing in the dark now!" yelled Andrew. "You have no idea who you're fighting, or why!"

"His name is Boris," said Connor, striding forward through the doorway with a determined look on his face. "He first became a player in the late eighteen hundreds. He's organized an army of vampires to wipe the Slayers from the face of the earth. Do you know what else? I think he may be in bed with the people you just brought in here."

The witch behind Andrew shifted uncomfortably. "Actually, we're completely independent. And we do good things."

Spike grinned, a happy grin. "I do believe you're right."

"What?" said the witch.

"He spoke to me," said Illyria, a hiss, joining Connor. "This is the intended outcome that Boris sought. This is what his entire aim was. Do not think for a second that he is surprised if we turn on each other."

"I'm not turning on you," said Andrew. "I believe you. I know it's not you. Your vampires are all chipped, and the ones that attacked our safe house weren't."

"Poor logic," said Spike. "The chips come with on-off switches and remotes."

"What?" said Harmony, standing up so suddenly the furniture went flying.

Spike grimaced. "See, the government knows that it has a lot of human enemies too. They're ready for the day they have to turn the vamps loose on humans. So you're a step behind, Andy."

Andrew stared at him. "What about the shadow-men in the vision?"

"It could be the government, Riley et al."

"What about the society of the Blade? The secret society dedicated to wiping out evil that you were trying to join?"

Spike glanced to Connor. Connor shrugged. "Andrew, that… has nothing to do with this. Those guys were a bunch of nerds who loved their secret passwords and thought they could end evil by accumulating money and greasing a few palms."

"What about the guy you've tracked down? You have proof, right?"

"We have the word of a dead dead person," said Spike, grinning. "Inn't that right?"

Connor nodded. "Spike banished her soul to oblivion."

Andrew could feel his feet teetering on an edge. "So you have no proof at all you're on our side."

Illyria sneered at him. "Andrew, you amuse me occasionally. Right now you irritate me."

Spike shook his head. "No needling."

"What?" She turned around to face him, putting her fists on her hips. "Did you seriously just tell me to play nice with him?"

Dana inched out behind Spike, watching Andrew carefully.

"Andrew may be on the other side, but he's a friend," said Spike firmly. "And now he's going to call off his hired dogs before any of them get hurt."

"Screw this!" muttered the Slayer behind Connor, moving forward quickly, gracefully.

Illyria whirled, her body shifting. Her street clothes became leather armor, her hair turned blue, and her face began to mottle.

"Do not approach us!" she growled. "I will teach you pain and destruction!"

The Slayer jumped forward, slamming into Illyria and sending her flying. She whirled as she hit the ground, taking Connor off his feet and heading for Spike, trying to get to him while his allies were down.

"No!" yelled Andrew. He knew what she hadn't stopped to think about, that Spike was the most dangerous of the three, and that attacking him alone was too dangerous in itself.

But he was too late. Dana had darted forward, backhanding the other Slayer, who staggered back, staring at her sister Slayer.

"Sorry," said Dana.

Spike moved then, grabbing Dana from behind, wrapping both arms around her waist and lifting her up, pulling her back away. "No!" he growled, his voice low. "That bit about not hitting Slayers? Applies double to you!"

Dana set her feet and pushed, knocking them both into the wall and getting free of Spike. "Don't grab me!" she said urgently, stepping away from him.

The other Slayer took that opportunity to dart forward, aimed at Spike. Unfortunately, her timing could have been better. Connor was back up now, and he swept her feet out from under her with a low spinning kick.

"You stay down!" he warned her. "In case you hadn't noticed you don't have any allies here. Spike doesn't want to hurt you, but don't think that'll stop all of us!"

"Hey!" roared Spike.

Andrew stepped forward, bringing the gun out of the holster. He'd hoped it wouldn't come down to this. "Step back from her!" he snapped.

He saw Dana hesitate and reach inside her flannel jacket for a second, and he wondered if she was seriously thinking about drawing a weapon on him. It was a scary thought.

"Don't do anything stupid," said a quiet voice from behind Spike. Riley stepped out, his hands empty. "We can all just walk away."

"I have to take Spike with me," said Andrew.

"Can't," said Dana.

"Will," corrected Andrew.

She stepped in front of Spike smoothly, quickly. Spike grabbed her shoulders and spun her so that he was in front of her. "Don't do that again," he said seriously, his voice strained.

"He wouldn't shoot me," said Dana.

"You don't know!" shouted Spike. "I've seen reasonable men do worse. I've seen men become monsters from fear, or hate, or for revenge. He looks like the man you know, but you can't trust that."

Harmony approached slowly. "Hey, everybody. Can I ask a question?" She vamped out quickly. "Is the chip on?"

"No," said Riley quietly, stepping back. "Here it is, folks; my vampires… Spike's vampires," he amended, as Harmony shot him a look. "Spike's vampires want him safe. To that end we've given them full reign to keep him safe."

"Turn it back on," said Spike. "That's a Slayer there. You know my rule."

"Your rules don't matter, right now," replied Riley. "They have invaded my base. They have compromised security. They have threatened my allies."

Andrew lowered the gun. "We're leaving," he said coldly.

Spike waited till the Slayer had got up and limped after Andrew, shooting him a dirty look, before speaking. "The chip was on?"

"Of course," said Riley. "I'm not attacking a Slayer for you. Okay, what's the plan?"

Spike shoved Riley suddenly, hard. "And no threatening Slayers!" he yelled. "One simple rule! Do you have to break it so flagrantly?"

"It was a bluff," said Riley, backing up a little.

Connor leaned against the wall. "All right, Riley, here's the plan. We're going to go get this Boris to come out into the open. We know he must have been somewhere near the safehouse that got hit, so we go there first. We use Spike to bring him out into the open."

"No," said Dana. "We're not using Spike that way."

"All right, you guys sort out the plan, I'll sort this out," said Spike, walking away, still holding Dana's arm.

She let him drag her through a hallway and into a side office. He slammed the door behind them, staring down at the floor as if it was suddenly interesting.

"How do you plan to sort me out?" she asked curiously.

"I was planning on sorting myself out, actually," he replied. He turned his back to her, sighing. His shoulders slumped very dramatically, and she wondered if he had practiced that.

She just waited. If he was being dramatic then he probably had something important to say, as scary as that thought was. If it was important, that usually meant it would hurt.

"I spend a lot of time trying to in control," said Spike. "It's scary when I'm not in control. People get hurt. People die. I promised myself a long time ago that I'd protect someone very close to me… and I failed."

"I don't need protecting. I'm a Slayer," said Dana.

"So was she. Not the point. Anyway, I've lost more people since then. Some of them very, very special people. You know Illyria? When she was born into this world she sucked the life out of a girl who never did anything but good. Who did the right thing, even for a monster she knew was callous and manipulative."

"Who?"

"Me. Again, not the point."

"What is the point?"

"I don't want you to get hurt."

"But I don't want you to get hurt."

Spike turned around to stare at her, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I've already had this argument with Connor and with Illyria, and I won both of those. You know why? Because I've died three or four times now. I'm like a bad penny. I keep turning up, and up, and up."

"Maybe the fifth time's the charm. Can't we both not die?"

"Maybe. That's plan A, anyway. But the single most overriding concern I have is keeping you lot safe. Okay? I know you're having trouble with the concept, but if you can't accept it, then I have to leave you behind to protect you."

Her jaw dropped. "You can't do that!"

"Yes, I can. I'm fairly ruthless about protecting you guys. Okay?"

She glowered at him. She didn't like having no choice in the matter, being pushed into doing what he wanted. Especially when what he wanted was so counter to what she wanted. He wanted her to stand by while he was in danger? She wouldn't do that.

"Fine," she said, lying through her teeth.

He grabbed her arm, just below the shoulder, and she gasped, trying to back away. He was staring into her eyes, and she could see that he knew she was lying. She wasn't sure how he knew it.

She didn't like that.

"I can't do this," muttered Spike. "I can't fight them and you. It's too hard."

"Then don't fight me," she replied. She was getting better at repartee, and it was his own fault for teaching her. He still gave her a dirty look.

"How about we do it the other way around, kid? Why don't you not fight me?"

"Because I'm right and you're wrong."

He closed the distance between them, stepping closer. "Don't fight me, pet. That's a recipe for disaster."

It had been a while since the kiss in the kitchen, and Dana wasn't even sure what that meant any more. She was sure how she felt about it, though, and about the distance between them.

She leaned forward, closer to him. He pulled back, his face suddenly panicked. "Hey! We're arguing here!" he said, trying to step back. He tripped over his own feet and fell to the floor.

She stopped, frowning. "Is something wrong with my lips?"

He struggled back to his feet, flailing. "What? No! I'm just… don't sneak up on me!"

"I'm standing in front of you."

"I mean, we were arguing! You can't…" He trailed off, frowning. "Well, I guess you can. But it's too much like old times."

This time he didn't flinch away when she leaned in. She couldn't quite bring herself to go the last quarter inch, and hovered just a heartbeat away from the kiss, staring into his eyes.

He tilted his head at her. "Any good relationship is a meeting of equals. Do you think that's what this is?" She could feel his warm breath tickling her chin as he spoke.

"I don't know. I'm crazy, remember?"

He frowned. "That's what I'm trying to get at, fruit loop."

"I always felt like you took me seriously," she said. "And you always explain things to me so I can understand. That's all I know."

He sighed, folding one arm around her waist. She moved into his embrace, lowering her head down onto his shoulder. Her heart was racing so hard she felt like it would explode.

"I try to have the answers, but more and more lately, I don't," he said. She didn't like it when he was miserable, and she wrapped her arms around him tightly, squeezing him. She hoped it wasn't too hard.

"I just don't want you to get hurt," he said. "I mean, I don't think I'm a sexist ogre for wanting you safe." He put a hand on her shoulder and moved back so he could look her in the eye again. "I mean, it's hard for me to say it, but you really have gotten to me in the last few months. There was a long time in my life where I thought I could never love again… that I had loved so hard I'd burned myself out. But you proved me wrong. You're …"

Connor burst into the room. "We have a problem!" he yelled. Then he stopped. "Well, okay, two problems."

Illyria swept in behind Connor. "I told you not to disturb them!" she hissed, grabbing Connor and hurling him backwards through the door. "Take your time." She started to retreat.

"What problem?"

"Slayers under attack," said Illyria shortly. "But it's already over. A few more minutes won't change anything. Let the emotional constipation out, William."

Spike let go of Dana with a sigh. She didn't let go of him.

--

The Slayer safe house was sitting on the outskirts of Boston, an older building with a high fence to protect the girls from the spying eyes of the neighbors while they sparred in the backyard.

Spike swept into the building, flanked by soldiers. He could hear Illyria entering on the roof, more soldiers with her, and Connor entering from the back. Dana was behind Spike, and he wondered if she felt as sick as he did.

He could hear somebody dragging themselves down the hall, and he swooped into the hall. Instead of a vampire he found a Slayer, her back torn open and blood flowing freely.

She looked back up over her shoulder and let out a shriek, trying to hurry up and make it to the wall, where there were weapons.

"It's all right," said Spike roughly, cutting her off. "I'm not the other… I'm me… I'm not going to hurt you. Get a medic in here!"

Dana followed Spike and crouched by her fellow Slayer, watching Spike try his best to bind her wounds. "How'd you survive?" Spike asked gruffly. "Hid from them?"

"Played possum," groaned the Slayer. "Slowed my heartbeat down… meditated. What the hell is going on? One minute you're chopping us down, the next you're binding our wounds?"

"There's two of me," he said grimly. "And as you saw, he's not the nicest fellow. Dana, put some pressure on, right there."

Dana gave a little jump, moving in to put the pressure on. "You called me by my name. Is she dying?"

Spike chuckled. "Ever the charmer."

"You only call people by their name when it's important!"

"Well, it is. But she's not dying."

"Thanks," grumbled the fallen Slayer.

A soldier came running up. "There's eight bodies so far. Connor tracked some more of the girls across the street. They were holed up and fighting off a few straggling vampires. Connor dusted most of them, but he kept one alive."

Spike grinned. "And that's mistake number one for the bad guys," he said, rising. "Get a medic in here, will you?"

"Already on his way," the soldier assured him.

--

Deep inside, Illyria knew that he'd already made his decision. As she stared down at the body of a fourteen-year-old Slayer, she fought to keep tears from falling down her face.

She wasn't sure who she was crying for any more. What had happened to the girl was tragic. What was about to happen was equally as tragic.

Worse, her will to fight Spike in this was gone. Before she'd walked into this house of death and pain she had been prepared to go toe to toe with Spike to prevent him from risking himself.

_You and Dana both…_

The crazed Slayer would not like this.

_You and Connor can bloody well handle her. But be careful._

Illyria didn't want this. She didn't want to take the hard way, didn't want to do this. But empty eyes gazed up at her from a face that had been full of life and vitality, a warrior who had been attacked by superior numbers and an enemy who had been given unnatural strengths.

At one time Illyria would have reveled in the destruction. But her link to Spike lent her a humanity that she found difficult to shake off.

And she could help the tears.


	12. Betrayal

Title: If I should die before we wake

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or situations, or concepts, or anything, really.

Summary: After the events described in Deconstructing Hell, Spike, Andrew and Dana are menaced by a shadowy threat to Spike's life. You should read DH first.

Rating: T, because Spike is violent, rude, crude, and the bad guys are worse. Well, that's a lie. The bad guys are never worse than Spike. Oh, and some of the characters are downright naughty in this chapter.

Chapter 12: Betrayal

--

Spike sat beside the Slayer's bed. This bugged Dana a little bit; they didn't even know her name, and he was acting obsessive.

She wasn't sure why it bugged her, but it did.

The Slayer stirred, blinked, opened her eyes, and screamed again. Dana frowned.

"If you want me to hit Spike, I can, but it won't help," she said.

The Slayer stopped screaming, but she wasn't taking her eyes off Spike. "You've been sedated," he told her. "That's why you feel sleepy. We captured one of the vampires that attacked you, and I wanted you to be present for its questioning."

"You attacked us!" she accused.

"I told you last night, it wasn't me," said Spike.

"It was!"

"Wasn't."

"Was!"

Dana cleared her throat. "I don't want to interrupt, but we have a vampire to interrogate."

A nurse came in, pushing a wheelchair. Spike gave it a look of revulsion. "Do we have to put her in that…thing?"

"Yes," said the nurse firmly. She moved forward, helping the Slayer up and into the chair. "You've lost a lot of blood, so you'll probably be dizzy."

"Don't try to attack Spike," said Dana. "They gave the guards tranquilizer guns to take you out if you did."

Spike frowned. "That's not why they gave the guards those guns."

"What?"

Spike cleared his throat. "What's your name, Slayer?"

"I'm Ann." Her voice was surly, and Dana decided that she didn't really believe Spike.

Spike leaned closer to Dana, and spoke in a whisper. "Would you stay here?"

"No," said Dana.

He scowled. "You won't be happy."

She shrugged. "Seldom am."

"I mean… never mind."

Spike led the way. It was the same conference room that they'd been working in before, but with a chained vampire in one corner. He was whimpering, while Harmony was talking to him.

"And the chip means that you can't hurt humans. At all. No exceptions. If you do, it'll zap you really bad. If you kill a human, actually kill them, it's designed to deliver a lethal zap—insta-dust."

"That's another vampire," said Ann, straightening up stiffly.

"That it is," said Riley, stepping into the room from the other side. "Special Agent Harmony Kendall, this is Ann Withers. She's a Slayer."

Harmony sighed. "Too many of those, these days," she muttered, putting on a very big, very fake smile. "Hi, Ann!" she chirped. "Right now I'm explaining that this vampire has entered eternal servitude to Spike!"

"I can't be a minion to… to… that!" cried the vampire.

"Yes, you can!" insisted Harmony. "He-who-rose is the greatest vampire that ever lived… and the sexiest. He broke all the rules. Aren't we supposed to be rebels, not moribund traditionalists?"

"You tell him, Harm," said Spike, smiling. "Especially that bit about sexy."

She threw him a dirty look. "Shut up, Spike. I still haven't forgiven you for kissing the Slayer… any of them!"

Spike shrugged. "Got anything out of him yet?"

"He works for some guy named Boris Hare Krishna or something," said Harmony. "It's all a little vague."

"Location?" asked Spike.

"I don't know!" screamed the vampire, actually cowering in fear.

Spike sighed. "Yeah, well…"

Illyria marched into the room angrily. "You have deceived us!" she hissed, hitting Spike. He flew across the room and smashed into the wall, falling limply to the ground. "You used the power I gave you to split yourself in half! All this time the other one has actually been you, while you pretended!"

Connor entered behind Illyria. "We found you out, Spike," he said coldly. "And we're pulling the plug. Without Illyria's power you won't be able to kill any more Slayers. Going for the record, were you?"

"I already have the record," he said, laughing and trying to get to his feet. Blood dribbled from his mouth.

Dana turned and attacked Illyria, smashing into her with a lightning attack that drove the demon off her feet. She felt a sudden stinging sensation in her bottom, as if she'd been bitten. She looked down to see a tranquilizer dart embedded in her, and realized what Spike had been talking about when he'd said the darts weren't for Ann.

"You're a dead man, Spike!" growled Connor. "But, first…" He drew a long, wickedly curved knife from his belt in a quick move. "We take your powers."

"Just in case the doppelganger might survive your death," said Illyria coldly. "He will certainly not survive this."

Spike jumped up to attack. Illyria moved behind him, grabbing him in a headlock, and Connor slashed him across the chest with the knife, then cut his own hand. As he pressed his bloody hand to Spike's chest there was a flash of light.

Dana stumbled and fell to the ground, no longer even having the strength to stand. Then there were vampires all around, fighting Illyria and Connor, and she couldn't keep her eyes open. Connor went flying, and Illyria went down, and she saw Harmony carrying Spike out the door, before she slid into a troubled sleep.

--

"Can we feed on him?" asked the young vampire, staring at Spike.

"Stop it," said Harmony absently, carefully shifting the car into a higher gear. "Where do we get off? Exit 12?"

"No, ten," replied the vampire. "I'm hungry."

"There's all kinds of animal blood in the cooler in the trunk. There's some in my thermos, from this morning. Cold, of course. I call it a frosty-blood. Like iced coffee? It's good."

The vampire made a face.

Spike leaned forward over the back seat. "Harm, have you thought this out?"

"Yes," she replied. "Enemy of my enemy is my friend. This Boris guy is our best bet to stay alive now. Isn't that what it's all about? Staying alive?"

He sighed, collapsing back into the seat. "I wish they hadn't shot Dana," he muttered. "That makes me mad. Now I'll have to bloody kill them all. They shot her!"

"In the butt," said Harmony gleefully. "I bet she didn't see that coming!"

"Of course not. It was behind her," said the vampire. "I'm Gleason, by the way."

"Hey, Gleason. I'm Harmony, and that's Spike."

"He knows our names, love."

"I'm just being polite, blondie bear."

"Don't."

They drove on in silence, and Spike rubbed his jaw where Connor had hit him. "Junior's never hit me before, did you know that? One of the few that hasn't. Everybody else whales away. He never did, before this. That's lost trust."

"The Slayer trusted you," pointed out Harmony.

"She shouldn't have!" Spike said darkly. "Look where it's got us."

Harmony sighed. "On the run and in trouble? Yeah."

But Spike wasn't listening to her. He was still rubbing his jaw, but he was staring at the ceiling as if he could see through it, or beyond it.

Gleason sighed angrily. "How'd you hit those two back there? I thought you were still chipped."

"They aren't human," said Harmony. "We're allowed to hit demons and the sons of demons. They're fair targets."

"Not that it's a comforting thought," muttered Spike.

"Isn't it?" asked Harmony. "They scare me, personally."

"I meant my thought, pet."

"What was it?" asked Gleason nervously.

"I was just thinking that probably Dana's safer now that I'm further away from her. That's just not right. And I always swore I wouldn't be like Angel, would let the girl decide on the risks for herself. But I won't, will I? Just like him, I'll give my 'it's for your own good' speech and run away."

"I hope she forgives you," said Harmony.

"She's going to be dead!" said Gleason, unable to hold it in any longer. "Boris is destroying every single Slayer!"

"We could make an exception for an evil Slayer, couldn't we?" said Harmony doubtfully.

"Boris can't hope to win," said Spike. "They're on to him."

"Oh, he's got big plans," said Gleason. "He got you stripped of your powers, didn't he?"

Spike sighed. "He planted evidence of a spell to split me into two people? Twisted, but effective."

"That's what he said," said Gleason. "I'm sure he'll be able to get this chip from my head. Sure of it."

Spike snorted. "Good luck with that one. The soldier-boys are the only ones who've been able to do that, as far as I know—and they're so very, very reluctant to do it."

Harmony pouted. "Come on, Gleason. It's not that bad. It can be…liberating. It opens you up to a whole new way of life."

Spike grumbled under his breath about vampires and chips, and ran his hands through his hair. "I hope Boris at least has some cigarettes."

"I thought you quit?" asked Harmony.

"After getting hit by Connor and Illyria both, I'm starting back up, love."

--

"Tracking devices are zoned out," reported Riley. "I'm calling up a new satellite to get a wider read."

"Spike travels fast," noted Connor, pressing an icepack to his face. "I really wish you'd told me your vampires could hit me before now. Are the ones we captured saying anything?"

"They said we attacked He-who-rose," grumbled Riley. He glanced back at Dana, who was strapped to a gurney. "Is she going to be all right?"

"She'll be fine," said Ann absently, looking up from the notebook she was scribbling in. "Is Mister Wells back yet?"

"He's still in the meeting room with the other Watchers," reported Sam from the doorway. "This all went to hell in a hurry."

Riley sighed. "I've issued tranks-only warnings to everybody. Spike may not have intentionally done this… the splitting spell could have been done without his permission. If the doppelganger really does have all of his most evil parts, then the one we were whaling on was probably all the good parts, and had no idea."

Illyria marched into the room. "I wish to converse with the Slayers. Everybody else may leave now."

Riley rolled his eyes and glanced to Connor, who tilted his head, then nodded. "It's okay, guys. She just needs to talk to them."

They left with varying degrees of hostility to the demon. Several of them had expressed the opinion that she should have seen Spike's betrayal coming, even Connor. There had been yelling.

When everybody else was gone she began untying Dana, releasing the leather straps.

"Whoa!" said Ann, rising out of the wheelchair spryly. "What're you doing?"

"You are a Slayer and I am a god. What do we have to fear from her?" asked Illyria. "Besides, she is not dangerous."

"You hit Spike," noted Dana groggily, sitting up. "I might just be."

"Listen to me carefully," said Illyria. "I love Spike just as much as you do, and perhaps more so. He saved me. Can you say that he saved you? You cannot. Do you want to save him? From himself, if you must?"

Dana nodded.

Illyria's mouth curved into a smile. "I'm sorry, Ann, for this betrayal." Ann turned, realizing a moment too late that Illyria had armed herself with one of the tranquilizer pistols the guards were armed with.

As Ann slipped to the floor Illyria offered Dana her arm. "Come."

They strolled out arm in arm, as if they owned the entire military complex.

--

Gleason finished chaining Spike to the wall with glee. "Chip in my head, huh? Chip in my head?"

Harmony frowned. "So, you're not going to turn him? I thought you would have turned him, because he's such a powerful bad guy."

"Of course I'm not going to have him turned," said Boris. "He's a snake, a double crosser, and he has all your minions, to boot. I don't want that kind of competition. Especially not now that the Slayers will be out of our way once and for all."

Harmony sighed. "I really feel like he would make a good vampire… but, then, I loved him."

"Really?" said Boris, surprised. "Why?"

"Who can tell?" she replied gloomily. "The human or vampire heart is a fickle thing, and doesn't seek its own good."

"Too right!" agreed Spike, slouching in his chains.

"Could I… I mean, if you're going to kill him…could I have some of his blood?" asked Harmony. "I mean, I can't cut him or anything. If one of you could just cut him a little…"

Boris smiled. "He broke your heart, didn't he? Very well. We'll let you have a moment." He gestured to one of his vampire thugs, who approached Spike and vamped out, leaning in to bite him in the shoulder, away from his jugular.

As the vampire left Harmony moved closer, cooing, and leaned in to lap up the blood. Spike sighed, grimacing and straining against the chains. "Is that what you really want, Harm?"

"No," she said. "But it'll do."

She pressed her body against his, encircling his body with her arms and running her hands up and down his sides, licking the area around the wound. He shivered.

"Okay, that's kind of hot," said one of the minions.

Boris nodded. "I like her style," he said appreciatively. "Which of you idiots is my second in command?"

Gleason frowned. "Wasn't it Tucker? The one who got dusted in the scuffle at the safe house? Or maybe the Spike-vamp?"

"Either way, I think we have a replacement," said Boris. "Frankly, she brings a little class to the place."

The other Spike, sitting on the stairs that led out of the basement, chuckled. "Boss, you're not thinking straight. She's a dame."

Boris sighed. "Idiot," he muttered again.

--

Dawn finished buttoning up her blouse, then glanced at Andrew, who was sprawled over the bed. "You getting up?"

"Hm, thinking about it," he groaned. "Ummm… nope. Just gonna bask."

"What if I didn't mean it?" she asked, searching for her shoes.

"I don't think a woman can use the l-word and not mean it." He thought about that for a second. "You know, thanks to cable tv that phrase may not be usable any more."

"No, it still works. As long as I know what you mean."

"I mean, you could be stressed out and in need of an emotional connection, but all the same… see point A again."

"This could destroy our flimsy little coalition—which is already under attack," pointed out Dawn. "I had some serious trouble with some of the old school Watchers. This would just finish it all."

He sighed. "Dawn…"

"Magic bullet, right?" she muttered.

"Want to marry me?"

"That's absurd."

"Seriously. As fun as an illicit relationship has been, as fun as it's been hiding it from your friends… that's been done."

"To death," she said darkly. "And what were we doing while Rome burned?"

"What's Giles doing?" Andrew shot back.

She frowned. "Actually, if we hadn't been so busy I would have sent a strike team after him already."

"What?"

"He's been gone without contact for too long. It smacks of being part of this mess, except… except he told me in our last phone conversation that he was going undercover following a lead. I'm not sure what that was all about."

Andrew sighed, sitting up. "I still trust Spike and Illyria, you know."

"Yes. So much so that now they've gone missing, Connor and Riley consider them a threat, and they've somehow managed to cut out the tracers."

"They can't, not without magic."

"I know, I know. Embedded in the brain. In Harmony's case, in the chip. Why are all the other vampires still on the scanners but not her? Why would Spike choose her? Besides the ick value, I mean. Did I ever tell you she kidnapped me?"

"Hm." Andrew rolled over the bed so that he was sitting beside her. "Do you think Connor is just playing possum while working for them?"

"I mentioned it to Riley. He's got Connor under surveillance. You know, Willow's in the country still, over in Florida, shoring up our safe house there. Maybe she can shed some light on this."

"How they got the chips out?"

"What if they didn't? By all reports we can't find this Boris guy Connor thinks is behind all this. And the way they've managed to hit safe houses so far apart so quickly… maybe they're not based in this world."

Andrew grimaced. "That would explain why we can't track Spike. Okay, bring Willow in."

Dawn sighed, resting her head on Andrew's shoulder. "Do you remember what Spike asked us?"

"Whether you were more important to me than the mission? Yeah, I remember that."

"No, it was the other way around. He asked me… he knew you'd say yes. I know that. You're a damn-fool idealist, Andy. We all know that. But he asked me if I thought you were more important than the cause. Then he got all misty-eyed because he didn't know the answer."

"Yeah," said Andrew, gently leaning his head against the top of hers. "I'm idealistic that way."

"Yes."

"Yes, I'm idealistic, or yes, you'll marry me?"

"Yes, I'll marry you. Can't you at least let a girl be all mysterious? Did you learn that from Spike?"

Andrew chuckled. "Actually, I learned it from trying to figure out Spike's secrets."

Dawn laughed out loud.


	13. Rants and raves

Title: If I should die before we wake

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or situations, or concepts, or anything, really.

Summary: After the events described in Deconstructing Hell, Spike, Andrew and Dana are menaced by a shadowy threat to Spike's life. You should read DH first.

Rating: T, because Spike is violent, rude, crude, and the bad guys are worse. Well, that's a lie. The bad guys are never worse than Spike. Oh, and some of the characters are downright naughty in this chapter.

Chapter 13: Rants and raves

--

It was dark in the cellar dungeon, and cold. Spike had bled quite a bit from the bite to his shoulder, and he was shaking now. Shaking and itchy, he noted. A miserable combination.

Harmony appeared at the top of the stairs and glided down them with vampire stealth. "Do you think the cloaking field around the mansion is blocking the tracking chips?" she asked.

"Of course," he said from behind chattering teeth.

She carefully approached him and wrapped a blanket around him tightly. "I warmed it up in the dryer," she said proudly.

"Good work," he said, sighing.

She leaned against the wall beside him. In the darkness he could see the twin pools of amber light that her eyes had become in their demonic form. "It's weird. Your blood tasted… dirty."

"That's because of a life poorly spent."

"Oh. STDs? They usually have more of a tingly taste."

"No. It's that old smoker taste."

"Oh… you're right. Usually that's only in really old men, though. I hate that. I never eat… I mean, back when I was eating people, I never ate really old people. They always tasted funny."

"Yeah, well, I look young, but I was a vampire, remember? They brought me back in the same old body. So I'm sure I taste much older than I look." He groaned, stretching his shoulders. "I feel old."

She nodded, pools of pale light bobbing up and down. "I guess that makes sense. Boris was very impressed with your plan—the whole distraction thing. I think he knew I was just doing it to keep you alive longer."

"Well, there was that whole bit where Gleason told him that you basically worship me. I think that tipped your hand."

"But he didn't kill you anyway."

"Well, he figures he's being nice to you, see? He likes you. Kind of fancies you too, I think."

"Oh, I totally got that vibe. He was so totally hitting on me all through dinner. Do you know they have a lot of people tied up in the basement for the vampires to feed on?"

"I figured."

"He offered me a couple, said he'd pre-kill them and everything."

"Did you?"

"Are you nuts? I know the rules. I said no."

"That's the way, pet. Just say no."

"It kind of hurt his feelings, but I fed him some bull about the chip going on if I indirectly caused hurt to humans. That it had shocked me a little when the guy bit you."

"Oh, you told him you had a headache?" asked Spike innocently.

She sighed. "You just destroyed my narrative flow, Spike. That's inconsiderate."

"Yeah, whatever. How about the vampires?"

"They're in this low panic about you. I helped that along, told them some wicked awesome stories about you."

"Ugh."

"So, now what? Do you think he'll let you join his ranks?"

"Doubt it. He's not a complete idiot."

"Oh, unlike me?"

"I haven't called you a complete idiot in nearly a year, Harm. Haven't called you a silly bint in… six months."

"Oh, you think that's an improvement? You're still thinking it!"

"Yes, but at least now the filter is on and I'm bein polite. Isn't that something?"

"A little something."

He could hear the sound of skin and bone stretching for a second, and the twin pools of light went out. When they were gone her voice was a little less muffled. "So you're trying to be a better person?"

"I've been trying for almost six years now. But I think I've been getting closer these last few weeks."

"Is there a daring rescue being planned?"

Spike chuckled. "I'm working it out. Although I keep get snagged on who you and I are supposed to be rescuing."

"The guys in the basement, remember?"

"Oh, right." He'd meant to turn her statement around, to remind her that he was the hero, not the person in need of rescue, but apparently that joke had lost its edge. Maybe she really believed he was the hero, now. It wouldn't surprise him.

He struggled and wriggled a little bit, rattling the chains. "Okay, what else did you learn?"

"They're hitting the Slayers tomorrow night," she said. "One of the Europe safe houses. I think probably London."

He chuckled. "That castle? Good luck!"

"They don't need luck. They're very good," said Harmony seriously. "So, tell me when you want to escape."

He groaned. "When? Why don't we start with easy questions, like how."

There was the rustling of fabric at the top of the stairs. "Playing with your food, love?" asked an all too familiar dark, low voice.

"Oh. Two Spikes. This reminds me of a dream I once had," said Harmony.

Spike groaned. "Boy-boy-girl, right?"

"Well, yeah. Cuz I wasn't really interesting in any other guys. Then. I've moved on since then. I really have."

"Love sucks, doesn't it?" asked Spike.

"What?" said the other Spike, from up above, baffled by the turn the conversation had taken. He couldn't keep up.

"It does!" said Harmony.

"You fall in love with somebody who doesn't love you or is in love with somebody else… you know, with Dana, I lucked out doubly. Not only is she a wonderful person, but she loves me too."

"Yeah," said Harmony sadly.

"Bloody hell!" exploded the other Spike, turning the lights on. "Listen to yourselves, you bloody prats!"

"You're trying too hard to sound like me," said Spike, adjusting his arms to make himself more comfortable.

"Agh! Pillocks!" snarled the false Spike, leaping down the stairs. "You're both powerless, in the house of your enemies, and you talk about love! What kind of fools are you?"

"Fools for love," sighed Harmony.

"Yeah," agreed Spike. "If you were really me, you'd be one too, mate. My entire life as a vampire was defined by love. Completely defined. First Drusilla, then Buffy. If you'd done your research you'd spend as much time practicing giving flowers as you do practicing that snarl you love so much, eh?"

Harmony giggled. The false Spike sneered. "That would be why you're in chains and I'm about to go finish off the other Slayers."

"Yeah… about that," said Spike. "I've got something I've been meaning to tell you."

Harmony struck instantly as the doppelganger was distracted, whirling and slapping the hypodermic needle into his arm. He roared and batted her away, grabbing the spent vial and yanking it from his arm. "What was that?" he asked.

"Just a little something to help you sleep," said Spike. "That's a temporary kind of sleep." He grinned, shifting slightly reveal that he held a stake over his head in his chained hands. "Me, I'm a permanent kind of guy."

--

Boris led the way to the gateway. "Remember to stay close behind me," he said quietly, noting the nervousness among the vampires. "Where's Spike?"

"Here," said the vampire, swaggering forward in his duster.

"Remember to stay close to me. Not too close, but close enough."

"Right," drawled the vampire. Boris shot him an impatient glare.

"The spell that binds us loses power the further away you are, Spike. I'm serious. If you want that extra strength to fight the Slayers, you'll stay close to me."

Spike grinned widely. "I'll be right by your side, mate."

Boris frowned. "Your accent is slipping. Remember to sound more like Spike when we attack the Slayers."

"What's the point to it, if we have him in the basement?" drawled the rebellious vampire. "Seems to me it's done the trick."

"So that they're reluctant to stake you, idiot," growled Boris. "Do I have to remind you of the entire plan? They're still powerful, and can kill you."

"Right. Onward, then," he said, rubbing his nose. "After you, mate."

Boris sighed, turning and heading for the portal. Vampires were stupid at the best of times, and now was no exception.

There was a wash of sensation as he passed through the rocky circle, and he was suddenly in England, staring up at a castle, a rushing sensation filling his stomach. He felt as if his stomach was no somewhere to the left of where it had been before.

Spike, surprisingly was striding forward as if he hadn't felt it. "Getting used to it?" snapped Boris.

Spike grinned. "No. Getting better at hiding it."

The cockiness was so typical of the vampire that Boris sighed, crossing his arms. "Get it done," he ordered.

Spike strolled forward, kicked open the first door he came to, and yelled in, "all right, who's up for some fighting?"

"That's not how we usually do it," noted one of the other vampires behind Boris, coughing weakly as they assembled.

"Well, I'm sure he's… weak," muttered Boris. Actually, he was sure now that the vampire was in fact his human counterpart. He wasn't sure when or how they'd made the switch, or how they'd kept him from noticing, and kept the other vampires from noticing, but he was changed.

He decided to dust the girl when they got back. She'd done her job well enough, and he'd been impressed by her, but apparently she had aspirations beyond merely saving her boss. And that was unacceptable.

"Come on, anybody? I've got an army of vampires out here!" yelled Spike, heading inside.

"All right, time to cut our losses," muttered Boris. He hated to lose Spike like that, but he'd rather not face Spike and an army of Slayers all at once.

Spike strolled back out the door. "Fancy that, the place is empty! It's as if… oh, I don't know… Harmony tipped them all of!"

"Impossible!" snarled Boris. "There's communication to or from the mansion—it's cut off from the outside world!"

"Unless, say, she were to walk outside and make a phone call on her cell phone. Outside your magical cloaking field. Which would also allow the government to get a vector on that tracking device!"

"Did you say 'get a vector'? My God, man, did you flunk math?"

"Math was different when I took it, mate. We were still reeling over that whole round earth thing, remember? Well, okay, bit of an exaggeration… still, I'm insulted."

"You're insulted? You're going to die, fool!" Boris started forward, then stopped. "Wait a minute. How did you avoid detection by my vampires?"

"Well, two ways. First, I stayed away till the last second, remember? The other thing is that I had this on me." He reached behind him and took out a small wristwatch that he'd stuffed in his back pocket. "Makes a horrid buzzing noise… covered up the sound of my heartbeat nicely. Too highpitched for you, mate. Still… I'm touched you remembered my heart. Too many forget it these days."

"You're powerless and I have an army of vampires!" growled Boris.

"Yeah, about that… not so much with the army."

Boris whirled around. More vampires were coming out through the portal, armed with stakes and long wooden bo-staffs with sharpened ends. They wore all black, like ninjas, and some even had guns.

"Government, triangulation, Harmony," said Spike joyfully.

"Take them!" yelled Boris, turning back to Spike. He could hear the fight behind him, bones cracking against bones punctuated by the sounds of vampires exploding into dust.

"I normally prefer not to get my hands dirty, but you are vexing me," growled Boris, striding towards Spike.

"Yeah, about that… what are you? We have a debate going on. Male Slayer?"

"Idiot! I am a balance demon. Until recently I fought on your side." Boris shifted, his human façade fading back to reveal greyer skin, horns coming up through his skull. "When you shifted the balance the other way, my very nature turned me against you. I have been a good ally to you, but now I must kill you. It is inevitable."

"Mate, don't take this the wrong way, but you were never on my side," said Spike. "I fight the right people for the right reasons. You may have fought, but you were seeking some mythical balance… you were never fighting for the right reasons."

Boris dove forward. Spike ducked under his attack, spinning to one side. "Slow," said Spike, darting back away from Boris.

"You're powerless," growled Boris. "It's only a matter of time before I destroy you!"

He darted forward, lowering his head, and tried to gore Spike. Spike kicked Boris in the head, a move which only sent him flying as Boris snapped his head back up, catching Spike's foot. Spike tumbled a few feet, rolling to his feet fluidly.

Connor came flying through the air, sword in hand, and took a swing at Boris. "How does Beautiful Warrior equal balance demon?" he asked, as Boris barely dodged the blow.

"Idiot! Krishnov was my mother's name—taken because she was a fine, fine woman," growled Boris. "That part has nothing to do with me! Only the warrior part!"

As Connor attacked again Boris moved quickly, fluidly, using the flats of his hands to capture the sword and slap Connor in the face. Connor recoiled.

"Dude, you slapped me!"

Boris brought the sword around. He was bleeding where he'd been cut by the risky maneuver, but now he had the sword. "Yes, I did. And now I have your sword. What did you learn?"

Connor darted forward, punching Boris in the jaw. There was a cracking noise, and Boris slumped downward. "I learned you hit like a girl," said Connor resentfully.

Boris twitched, then rolled over, away from Connor, still holding the sword. "Ow. That was… quite a blow."

"Yeah, unholy son of vampires and all that. Very cool. I want my sword back."

Only Boris wasn't particularly impressed. He simply shrugged himself upright and attacked Connor with the sword. Unlike the demon, Connor's skin wasn't tough enough take blows from the sword and come away mere scratches, so taking the sword back wasn't as easy as it had been for Boris.

Connor spun away from the blade. He was fast and graceful, but Boris was also fast, if not quite so graceful, and it wasn't easy to avoid the blade. Eventually, he'd run out of speed, and then the sword would kill him.

That is, if his plan had been to dodge indefinitely.

Spike stepped up behind Boris and kicked the sword out of his hand cleanly, sending it spinning through the air at Connor, who snagged it out of the air. "And, once again, the Wonder Boys strike…um, again," said Connor.

Boris whirled, punching Spike, which knocked him to the ground. Spike coughed as he hit down. "You hit pretty good yourself," he muttered, running a hand down his face. "Egh. Gravel that gets under the skin. That'll sting in the morning."

"If you're really powerful enough to fight Spike and I at the same time, why'd you need an army of vampires?" asked Connor, moving in. "I think you're weak, and I think I can take you."

There was a sudden rush of hot air, and Boris was gone.

"All talk, no action. Like a bad date," groaned Spike.

"Yeah, yeah. You been staying out of trouble?" asked Connor.

"Illyria and Dana off on their little expedition?"

"Yeah." Connor crouched down. "Oh, and our allies are totally alienated."

"Eh. It needed to look real."

Connor sighed, squatting down next to Spike and resting his arms on his legs, balancing the broadsword in front of him. "Spike, have you ever consider that maybe you have trust issues?"

Spike's face flashed irritation. "I wrote the book on it." He sat up slowly, sighing. "Was it just me or did that not go as planned?"

"It went exactly as I planned it," said Connor. "But I wasn't doing your plan. Your plan was lame, and involved us winning. That's so old-school."

Spike laughed. "Yeah, well, I was busy not dying. You think anybody else has a clue yet just how screwed we are?"

"What?"

"Uh… Connor, you're supposed to be the brains." Spike squinted at the younger man. "Didn't you catch it amidst the ranting and raving? That was a balance demon."

"Yeah, I caught it," said Connor glumly.

"If I know anything about cosmic balance—and I do—we're in for a major butt-kicking," said Spike gloomily. "We upset the cosmic balance so far that the guys who are normally on our side are now against us."

"Fate," said Connor, nodding. "Well, let's kick fate in the balls, shall we?"

"Actually…" Spike stared up at the sky. "If being out of balance a little bit like having hundreds of Slayers turned Boris against us… what do you think our plan will do?"

"There's only one Boris," scoffed Connor.

"What if there isn't?" insisted Spike. "What if he's just the fringe. Our plan is going to knock the balance off even further… oh, crap."

Harmony approached, stakes in hand. "We routed em, boss," she reported gleefully.

"I need a helicopter, right away. No, a jet. No, even faster than that!" snarled Spike. "We're about to make a big mistake!"

--

"I don't get it," said Dana.

Illyria sighed. "It's a simple concept."

"But it doesn't work right! All the little pieces should fit together, and they don't."

"I am god-king of the universe, and I don't get it entirely sometimes."

"Say it again, okay?"

Illyria sighed. "He fell in love with people who didn't love him and invariably used him, leaving him with a complex that he can never be good enough. Consequently he feels that to let anybody close to him is a disservice to them. That is why he tries to push you away, for your own protection."

"It still doesn't make sense!" wailed Dana.

"Would you like me to complicate it with the conspiracies that are layered over it?"

"No, those are easy. Spike wanted his powers taken away from him, so he had you and Connor pretend you believed it when you found the evidence that the bad-guy had planted. Once he was powerless and we'd turned on him it was easy for the badguy to pick him up. Harmony went with him to protect him, and to lead Connor and the soldier-vampires right to the bad-guy. That's easy."

Illyria sighed. "But you can't get his trust issues?"

"I mean, I get that he is distant and stuff. That's easy. But your reason why? It makes no sense to me."

"Neither does complicated plans that involve us gallivanting off into the dark forests of eastern Prussia make sense to me."

"Prussia? I thought we were in Germany."

Illyria scowled. "Be that as it may. Our contact should be here shortly."

"Already here," said a quiet voice behind them. Illyria whirled, hands coming up defensively.

"Is that you?" she asked. "Come out! Show yourself!"

The demon that slinked his way out past the tree-line was the least-threatening demon Dana had ever seen. His skin hung off him in wrinkly folds, and his sad, puppy-dog eyes had a perpetually just-kicked look to them.

"How long have you been following us?" hissed Illyria.

"I just wanted to hear your theories on Spike, cuz I've never been able to figure him out," said the demon.

"I'm Dana," said the Slayer, not wanting them to dwell on the negative. That inevitably led to tears. And usually blood, although Spike wasn't here.

"I'm Clem," said the nervous demon. "Uh, Spike didn't say anything about you. I thought I was just meeting Illyria."

"Last-minute change of plans," said Illyria. "Spike decided to trust her."

"Oh? Well, that's screwy. I have all the stuff he told me to get, and I found that ring of power you were looking for. It looks like Stonehenge, only smaller. And more hidden."

"As it should be. Being in the public eye has sapped much power from the old circle on the island," sniffed Illyria. "For what we do now, we will need much greater power."

"What do we do now?" asked Dana.

Illyria sighed. "We are going to create a force of good so overwhelming it will surely destroy Boris, of course."


	14. Floppidus demons

Title: If I should die before we wake

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or situations, or concepts, or anything, really.

Summary: After the events described in Deconstructing Hell, Spike, Andrew and Dana are menaced by a shadowy threat to Spike's life. You should read DH first.

Rating: T, because Spike is violent, rude, crude, and the bad guys are worse. Well, that's a lie. The bad guys are never worse than Spike. Oh, and some of the characters are downright naughty in this chapter.

Chapter 14: Floppidus demons

--

"What kind of demon are you?" Dana asked Clem.

He looked up from the crate he was unpacking. "Uh, what?"

She put down another crate next to the one he was working on. It seemed kind of funny that she and Illyria, the little girls, were the big strong ones, and Clem, the large demon, was the weak one.

"Demons have names for different kinds, right? Fyaarl, Deathwoks, all of them. What kind of demon are you?"

"Um, I'm not sure. Book learning was never my strong suit," said Clem.

"What?" Dana frowned. "I never went to school, and I know I'm a human. And a Slayer."

"Well, Spike used to say I must be a Floppidus demon," said Clem. "But he was just being funny. My parents never mentioned a name. Well, besides my last name."

"What's that?"

"Fitzpatrick."

"What?"

"Well, we're Irish," said Clem defensively. "What's your last name?"

"I forgot," said Dana sadly. "And then I burned down the mental ward I escaped from, and all my records. Spike said if we had my social security number we might be able to find out, but that burned down too."

"Oh," said Clem. "Did you say mental ward?"

Illyria returned from Clem's truck carrying a crate under each arm. "She's the crazy Slayer."

"Oh, right! Didn't you cut Spike's hands off?"

"You cut his hands off once, nobody forgets!" complained Dana, turning back to go get more crates from the truck.

"These are the last two," said Illyria. "I believe we will need to wear the traditional garb for this ritual."

"Ugh," said Clem. "That's not… pleasant."

"It isn't?" said Dana, turning back with her eyes wide.

"Well, not for me. An awfully lot of… urk. Very tight skin. Excuse me, I'll just, uh, start getting the spell ready."

Illyria took a deep breath. "Spells like this require an internal strength, a strength of being. A focused spirit."

"Is that a problem?" asked Dana.

"I don't believe it will be," said Illyria. "Except for the focus. You are, much like Spike, a fractured soul. You tend to go in many directions."

"Oh. Like Spike?"

"I do, in fact, like Spike."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know."

Illyria headed back for the now-empty truck, leaving Dana alone to stare out into the forbidding yet oddly mangy woods around them. Clem was trying ignore her.

"Actually, I love Spike," Dana told the demon.

He looked up at her sadly. "I don't think Spike can love, sweetpea. Not any more."

"He said that. That he had been burned out. But I do love him. And he said maybe he could love me. I don't know. Do you call people pet names like Spike does?"

"Not a lot," said Clem. "One of his habits that didn't rub off on me."

"But you called me sweetpea."

"There are some situations that call for pet names, no matter what."

"Oh."

He continued sorting out the equipment, and heaved a sigh. "Last time I did this I had help," he said. "I'm not sure I remember everything. Fortunately, Spike took some very good notes."

Dana sat down on the wet grass, running her fingers over the long, overgrown blades. "Spike and I used to have ice cream together, in the mall, before everything went bad. At least once a week we'd take off and just eat an ice cream. We haven't done that since all this started."

"This job of yours, Slaying, will kill romance," said Clem sympathetically. "I remember the last Slayer Spike dated. That was a disaster. She nearly killed him a couple of times… no, wait, she did kill him that last time."

Dana scowled. "I met Buffy a load of times before I met Spike, and I was never jealous of her then. I even liked her. Now I'm retroactively jealous."

"Big words."

"Spike taught em to me."

"He's good at big words. He knows what they mean, and what they feel like. He can use them. He's all poetic."

--

Dawn didn't like being lied to. It made her feel all betrayed and fuzzily angry.

Worse yet, she knew she had the power to have Riley's head crushed like a grape. Between the eight Slayers in the room and the four more in reserve, if she said the word he was a dead man.

That wasn't good for her mental equilibrium. Especially with that little voice in her head screaming 'pop it like a zit!'

"You mean you and Connor were plotting against me all along?" she asked sweetly.

"Dawn, you know I appreciate your help, but Spike was adamant that we not risk the lives of any Slayers."

"Screw that!" yelled Dawn. Andrew, sitting at the other end of the table, winced. "I have a crack team of the best warriors on earth, and you guys are having us warm the bench out of some misguided chivalry?"

"Spike… wanted to do it himself." Riley's face was stretched very thin. "I'm sorry I lied to you, Dawn, but … I'm not in charge of the vampires, did you know that? They're a loaner from Spike. An army of vampires, and he loans them to me. Do you know who the government would kill to have control of that army? Anyone, anytime. Seriously. So I thought a little white lie to you guys was the least I could do. It's not like it's the first time I've lied to cover Spike's butt."

There was a silence after that little speech. Andrew squirmed a little bit. He was distinctly uncomfortable with the anger in the room, and even more with the feeling of agreeing with Riley.

He didn't want to be agreeing with Riley right now. That was dangerous. That was the path to getting his face punched by a Slayer. And that would hurt. A lot.

Dawn sighed. "Where's Spike now?"

"He and Connor split up, as near as we can understand. Connor said the secondary mission is active again—God help us all—and Spike said that Illyria and Dana were in danger. He took the majority of the vampire army with him."

"Wait, I'm still not clear. Did Spike actually give up the powers from Illyria?" asked Andrew.

"I'm not sure," said Riley.

Andrew glanced from Dawn to Riley. He knew that the Slayers might hesitate at the command to kill a human, even coming from Dawn, so that was Riley's one chance of living through this meeting.

Of course, Andrew might be becoming slightly pessimistic.

Riley's wife, Sam, pushed open the swinging double doors and strode in, Harmony behind her. "Harm says we have a problem, and we need to be mobilizing international forces in Hamburg."

"Not the food, the place in France," said Harmony earnestly.

"Germany," Sam corrected. "I already called the NATO team, but Spike took the other vampires through an interdimensional portal-way to get there first. Our team won't be ready to go for a while. In the mean-time, Spike gave us some cool new toys."

"A mansion in New Orleans that's invisible to outside scanners, and an interdimensional hopway that can jump you across the world in a heartbeat!" said Harmony cheerfully.

"Yeah," said Sam. "Enemy headquarters is now our headquarters. Oh, and a lot of refugees from the hurricane had been captured and herded into cells. Spike saved them all."

"Good deeds all around, yay!" said Harmony. "Oh, and I failed the human blood detector at the door, but I have a note from Spike saying it's okay."

"Spike let you snack on the bad guy? That's gross," said Andrew, before he could stop himself.

"Um, no, not exactly," said Harmony, suddenly very nervous. "But he assured me it's all for a good cause. Fighting the good fight and all that. He has a soul, and he said it's okay, so it wasn't wrong, right?"

Andrew frowned. "Who did you kill?"

"See, I didn't kill anybody, either. The chip never fired. And I was nice about it! I kept him alive!"

"You had to eat one of the refugees in order to get in good with the bad guys!" gasped Andrew. "Harmony, how could you?"

"What? No! I, um, lied to get out of that. Told them if they hurt him for me it would hurt me, chip and all, but if they killed him for me it might dust me."

"Then whose blood did you drink?" snapped Riley, missing his wife's head-shake. Sam gave an aggrieved sigh.

"I've already debriefed her. I don't think we need to go over this again. It's fine, Spike's note explains it all."

Dawn had been paying close attention. "She drank Spike's blood," she said shortly, harshly.

"What?" said Riley, shocked.

"I get it," said Andrew. "Bona fides and it kept them from punishing Spike. Right?"

"Right!" said Harmony, relieved.

Riley shook his head. "Sometimes, I don't get you guys at all. How bad is the Hamburg situation? Did the bad guy escape? Are we in retrieval mode?"

"Um, we're in full-force apoc mode," said Harmony. "Spike's plan B turned into a bad plan, as it turns out. And nobody was surprised. Big yawn."

"How could plan B hurt us?" asked Riley.

"There's a plan B?" asked Dawn quietly.

--

Spike followed the vampires on their mad dash through the trees. Their senses were better than his, so he had to trust that they could tell where they were going. He could see nothing but a pulsating darkness and the occasional tree, and his nose was telling him nothing.

Sometimes he missed being a vampire, and he wondered if that was wrong.

Well, he didn't miss the bloodlust screaming inside his head, or the need to hide from the daylight. Just the good things, really.

Good things. He looked around himself as he ran, examining dispassionately the dark creatures of the night on this mission with him. They were doing good deeds solely as a means to survive and thrive in a world which was suddenly more hostile and dangerous than before, in a world with many Slayers.

They weren't good, and they weren't friendly. They were monsters. No matter how they dressed it up. Most of them couldn't even function with a soul if they were given one. There had been early experiments. And it would be inhumane to stake an enemy that had come to you for help, even though Spike knew it would end badly.

So they chipped them, and they worked them. It wasn't quite right, but it was what they did.

"Ahead!" growled a not-quite-human voice from Spike's left. He assumed they were onto the scent.

He really wished Illyria could have given him some better instructions than 'somewhere in the woods.' It would have sped them up, and right now he had a strange feeling that every second might count.

Besides, he already knew they were too late. He'd felt the tugging somewhere behind his belly button nearly a minute ago.

They crashed into the clearing. Illyria was wearing her leather armor, and Dana was wearing a bathrobe. Clem was, oddly, hugging both of them. Spike halted the others. "Set up a defensive perimeter around the clearing!" he barked. "I don't want anything getting in!"

"That was fast," noted Illyria. There was concern on her face, and for once he couldn't make a comforting comment to her in his head while making a snarky one with his mouth. He wondered how he could handle that.

"Well, love, we're buggered," he said. "Turns out this is actually a bad idea after all."

Dana stared at him. "What? I thought this was your big plan to save the world!"

"The baddie wasn't who I thought he was. He was a balance demon, and that's eight kinds of trouble."

"We've shifted the balance in the favor of good," said Illyria. "Every time we do that, we attract new enemies. I see. That is… phenomenally unfair."

"Tell me about," sighed Spike. "Bloody unfair! On the plus side, it looks like we took out Boris' main base of operations and killed all his vampires. Oh, but he escaped, and is actually stronger and tougher than either Connor or I. Of course, I wasn't that much of a challenge, all things considered." He coughed, then glanced back over his shoulder. "I don't think we should be sticking about here."

Illyria sighed. "Clem has a truck. There's a road. Shall we?"

Spike glared at Clem. It was a fairly hostile glare. "Clem, is that my shirt?"

"You said I could have your stuff?" squeaked the demon.

Spike sighed. "Yes, but that shirt is … evil. Very evil. Burn it as soon as possible. And by the way, you're looking good. Very floppy."

Dana couldn't for the life of her understand why a shirt that had been signed by Billy Idol was evil.

--

Dawn wasn't sure how this sort of telephone conversation was supposed to be handled. 'We may have caused the end of the world, and I'm getting married.' That sounded whiny, needy, and as if they were just getting married because the world was ending.

There had to be a better way to put it.

Don't pick up, she begged mentally. Be busy. Don't pick up.

"Hello?" said Buffy sleepily.

"Buffy? We have a situation," blurted Dawn.

Andrew sighed, looking at her with those too-large too-puppyish eyes. She knew he wanted her to tell Buffy about them, but that was just a little too soon, a little too fast, and she couldn't do it.

"What? Situation?" Dawn could just imagine Buffy sitting up in bed. "Do I need to get Giles and start planning for something? Does this have to do with the call from Riley asking us to evacuate the castle?"

"Yes… but don't call anybody yet. I wanted to have a little chat first, and there's nothing we can do yet."

"Nothing we can do?"

"Spike's back on our side… again. Sort of. And there's all kinds of weirdness. And… Andrew asked me to marry him."

"Andrew what? When? Huh?"

Andrew sighed, and hugged Dawn, leaning close so that he could hear Buffy.

"Um, Buffy… last night."

"Isn't that a bit fast… wait a minute. Did you say last **night**?"

Andrew rolled his eyes.

"Um, yes, I did."

"Andrew? You're still sleeping with him? And he wants to marry you? Good lord. And now I'm Giles. It's a good thing I was already sitting. Andrew? What'd you say?"

"Um, don't freak out…"

"You said yes? Wow. That's… well, it does make me seem just a little behind, but … wowwy. Tell him his timing sucks."

Andrew shook his head seriously.

"Yeah, I'll tell him. I, um, I'm glad you're taking it well."

"I'm still in shock. After I talk to Giles we'll come up with a plan of action, and if he's still alive after that then there will be a wedding."

"Oh. Okay." Dawn met Andrew's eyes and smiled. He gave a tiny, contented sigh, snuggling closer to her.

"So he's listening in, huh?" asked Buffy. "That's cool. Hey Andy…"

"Hurt her and you'll tear my heart out, I got it," said Andrew.

"We need some new threats for guys. Look into that, huh, Andy? Do some research."

"To threaten myself?"

"And guys who date the Slayers. We need to have resources, you know."

"Yes, yes, of course."

--

Spike drove like a madman, and Clem, sitting in the passenger seat, was whimpering.

Dana had ended up sitting next to Spike, squished between him and Illyria. It was a tight fit; Clem took up a lot of space. Every time they went over a bump she ended up most in Illyria's lap, which was just a little awkward right now.

"Wait, maybe this is a good thing," said Spike. "I mean, maybe it tips the balance the other direction. Eh?"

"Perhaps," said Illyria. They hit another bump and Clem made a groaning sound as Dana grabbed at the dashboard for support, but was still thrown sideways across Illyria's lap.

It stung more than a little bit, internally.

Worse was the easy way Illyria anticipated her and helped her reseat herself.

"I mean, think about it. I'm no longer a warrior with special mystical powers, and now Dana, one of the Slayers, has been linked to a hell goddess."

"That is true," said Illyria. Her voice was as cool and calm as ever, but now Dana could see how much that was just a front. Behind the voice she could feel a torrent of fear. Fear that they had unleashed evil. Fear that now Spike was vulnerable.

And anger. So much anger. Anger at Boris, anger at all evil, anger at the Powers that sent them all into a hopeless battle, angers at the Powers that wanted to maintain a balance of good and evil.

Dana didn't know how it was possible to maintain so much anger.

_This is nothing. Spike makes me look calm and rational by comparison. Linking us often was a bad thing—we would feed each other's rage exponentially. Recursively._

Dana wasn't sure what that meant, but in Illyria's mind she could see the image of two snakes biting each other's tails. She thought that meant that they fed each other, which was a weird thought.

Or not. Because every time Illyria thought about Spike she'd reveal some other memory or thought of him, and each one was so breathtaking that she felt something tighten in her chest.

_We eventually found a way to block the link enough to keep from going mad. That's why I never knew that he would take you for ice cream._

Spike turned them onto another road. "Clem, where's the autobahn?"

"Uh, turn left up here, then it'll be up past the mountains a ways. Didn't you girls bring a car?"

"We actually parachuted in from above," said Dana. "It was really cool. And saved a lot of time."

"Back when we thought it was urgent that we have a warrior with enough strength to kill a Male Slayer," said Illyria. "But that, of course, turned out to be stupidity."

"Hey, lay off!" said Spike. "Connor thought of it, so it must have at least seemed reasonable!"

"Seemed, but was not," sniffed Illyria. But Dana could feel the strong amusement, and the love that flowed behind the words. It was strange to be let in on half of their relationship like this.

_We would often simply say nice things to each other telepathically while slapping each other down. It worked out very well._

And, oddly enough, not the important things. Dana had often thought that they must be planning something in that silence, but they didn't. They just chatted.

_Neither of us have ever been good at plotting. We play it by the seat of the pants, most often._

Dana wasn't sure that they had done the right thing, no matter how long Spike continued muttering about balance and power. But she was also enjoying it immensely.

No matter how awkward it was to be able to feel Illyria's hand on her shoulder and at the same time feel her shoulder under Illyria's hand through the link. It was downright unsettling, a feedback loop of touch.


	15. Expositionary demons

Title: If I should die before we wake

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or situations, or concepts, or anything, really.

Summary: After the events described in Deconstructing Hell, Spike, Andrew and Dana are menaced by a shadowy threat to Spike's life. You should read DH first.

Rating: T, because Spike is violent, rude, crude, and the bad guys are worse. Well, that's a lie. The bad guys are never worse than Spike. And violence.

Chapter 15: Expositionary demons

--

Buffy wandered through the castle. It was slightly surreal to see it so empty. Usually there were Slayers, and Giles, and enough bustle and noise to fill it completely.

She especially missed the Giles part.

"Secret mission, huh?" she muttered suspiciously. She privately thought that he just didn't want to have to deal with Spike. He'd never liked Spike, she recalled. Less so than the rest of them.

And even a human Spike could still scare everybody.

Willow was descending the stairs, frowning. "You know, there's not a lot of things I'm scared of. This… this aura that the balance demon left behind, it's scary. We need some powerful magic to fight this kind of thing."

"Like what?" asked Buffy. "Last I knew you were our secret weapon."

"Yeah, but I don't normally fight stuff like this. This is different. Scary. It's the sort of thing that we're usually very glad is on our side."

Buffy rolled her eyes, just a little. "Will, you're saying this thing scares you?"

"These balance demons aren't the things we normally fight, Buffy! They're just about immune to most magic, they're nigh unto invulnerable… we're talking about guys you can choppity-chop all day and they're still okay and ready to go."

"Choppity-chop?"

"Sorry. Slay?"

"Slayage. So they're tough?"

"They're supposed to be agents of good from everything I've read. I mean, I don't know if we're trusting Spike right now or not, but his message was very not helpful. The opposite of help."

"I think we're trusting Spike right now."

"Why?"

"It was an elaborate ruse to fool the bad guy. And, yes, he could have let us in on it."

--

Spike scowled down at the hapless clerk, pulling himself to his full height. "What do you mean, no?" he demanded.

The clerk squeaked. "I mean we don't have any. I mean… uh..."

"What else do you have that might perhaps be a bit like it, eh?"

"Um, we have some bagels…"

"Bagels are nothing like ice cream."

Illyria sighed. "Perhaps his command of English isn't the best. We can try the next store we come to."

Spike glanced sheepishly to Dana. "No ice cream, pet."

"They have sodas," said Dana rooting through the meager assortment of goods offered. "And bagels. And... well, popsicles."

"Grab 'em," said Spike.

As they returned to the truck, loot tucked in bags, Dana looked around for Clem. He'd pleaded the need to stretch his legs, but now he wasn't back.

_He's run off to the little demon's room._

It was a little weird to have Illyria always aware of her. She'd have to start trying to block Illyria and see if it was actually possible.

Spike hopped into the back of the truck and sat down, leaning against the glass. "It's been a long day."

Illyria sat next to him automatically. "And Boris? Was he fun to fight?"

Spike groaned. "I was weak, without your powers. I didn't like that."

"Inevitable," said Illyria.

Dana settled down on the other side of Spike and grabbed one of the popsicles out of the bag. "Arnf oof oinff oof eef onf fighfinf?"

"Of course," said Spike. "Giving up the fight just because I have no powers? Bah."

"Hm," said Illyria, reaching past Spike to snag a popsicle from Dana. "You could continue in a non-combat mode as a Watcher."

"Screw that, love. I'll just have to find some way to get some powers. See any irradiated spiders over there?"

"Where would we even find a vat of toxic waste?" asked Dana, giggling.

Spike frowned at her. "I didn't like that movie. The sulky brooder should have been killed."

"But he was the badass," noted Illyria. "I would have thought you would empathize with him."

"But he reminded me of Angel. So I didn't."

Illyria sighed. "One day you two will finally resolve your differences, and the space-time continuum will crash down around us. And then your shows will be cancelled."

Spike glanced at his watch. "Do you think Andy's been taping the show?"

"I am sure of it. He cannot live without it."

--

Boris was about two seconds away from an insane rampage. No, less than that.

"How did this happen?" he asked one of the vampires.

"As near as we can figure, they must have been using advanced weaponry. And they didn't seem to feel pain; they just kept coming and coming, no matter what we did."

"I don't mean the vampire army! I mean Spike. I mean William the Bloody. How did he manage to turn it around like that? We had him kidnapped and in chains, we had stripped away his allies, we had him right where I wanted him!"

"We stopped to monologue," noted one vampire. Boris whirled and punched him, sending him flying through the air.

"What else could go wrong?" he demanded.

A tall, slim man entered the dark room quietly. The vampires, who had been watching Boris nervously, all shifted to look at him, their eyes widening.

"We can recover this," said Boris. "This ultimate warrior he's empowered; we'll find her, we'll kill her, and everything will be okay."

The tall figure leaned against the wall, watching Boris. "Isn't she the ultimate warrior?" he asked softly.

"She's not invulnerable," sneered Boris. "I'm sure…" He frowned. "What are you doing here?"

"Reconsidering. I remember when you came to me for help you assured me that your little plan was foolproof. Oddly, that fool seems to have destroyed the army I helped you acquire, the warrior that you spent so much time and money making look like Spike, and the fancy mansion I gave you. Not to mention those Slayer dreams."

"I killed a few Slayers," mumbled Boris.

"One or two. Wow."

"What do you expect from me?"

"Well, right now I expect you to cut your losses as far as Spike is concerned. I mean, going after a new ultimate warrior when you couldn't even take out the ordinary ones? Give me a break."

"So, what? I give up, retreat into the night?"

The demon pushed himself away from the wall. "I happen to know that the head Watcher will be traveling back to England soon. I know what flight she'll be on. She will have one Slayer and one rogue demon hunter with her, and another Watcher. And me. Kill her, and you will send them reeling in chaos, and perhaps the forces of darkness will have one last chance. Can you do that?"

Boris licked his lips. "That little girl? An easy target. But my forces are depleted…"

"Then do it yourself, Boris. You're far stronger than any of your vampires anyway, aren't you?" asked the demon.

"Yes, yes, I am."

The tall, scaly demon grinned, revealing rows of fangs. "They deride and mock us for seeking a balance, but the truth is that they are always very glad of our help when the balance swings against them. Balance is important. Balance is what keeps this world from spinning out of control."

--

Clem was driving now, which meant that Dana could sit on the outside, by the window. She felt less confined that way. She hated feeling trapped; it made her heart race and her breath quicken.

Of course, sitting next to Spike could do that too.

He had an arm casually around her shoulders, and they were squished together. It didn't feel awkward to her, not now. It felt a little strange, and it made her stomach tingle.

His hand was flopped down by her arm, and he was casually running his finger up and down her bicep. She wondered if it was possible for the human heart to explode, especially over something so simple. So silly.

_It isn't, actually. Although it is possible for the human heart to explode later. I'm told that many heart attacks occur during coitus. Of course, that's generally older people. So you don't have anything to worry about. Maybe Spike does._

At some point she really was going to figure out how to filter her thoughts and keep Illyria out. That or she was going to go back to being crazy and cut Illyria's head off; she hadn't really decided one way or the other.

_Foolish. Cutting my head off would not kill me—unless your intent was simply to cause pain._

She knew that.

"I'm worried," said Spike. "We haven't been attacked by Boris yet. That means he picked a new target."

"Maybe without his means of transportation he is slower," said Illyria.

"No. Not this one, pet. He's impulsive."

"Rather like you."

"I guess so."

Dana cleared her throat. "You beat him last time; maybe he's learned. Maybe he chose someone easier to beat."

"It doesn't seem like his MO, but he might be smarter than he looked."

"Perhaps Connor can help."

"Connor… is out of this game."

"What? When did that happen?"

"He got a phone call. From daddy." There was a sneer in Spike's voice. "He went running."

"Oh."

_Connor's loyalty to us is remarkably strong, but he must balance that with the promises he has made. Do not dare think ill of him for having to run to the aid of his father._

Dana hadn't thought ill of anybody. She really hadn't. She wasn't that sort of person.

_Good._

Spike let out a deep sigh, and Dana hesitantly rested her head on his shoulder.

Clem cleared his throat. "You know, if you want to know what's going on, you could just call your friends with the Slayers and ask them if they know."

Spike paused for a second. "I never would have thought of that."

"No," agreed Illyria. "Instead you were thinking of backwards and sneaky ways to extort information from other people."

"Anybody have a phone?" Now Spike sounded grumpy.

"I do," said Clem. "Hang on, got it right here… oops. Here you are." He handed it to Illyria.

Illyria opened the phone and dialed. "What number are you using?" asked Spike.

"I know the number," she replied.

"How?"

"Goddess, remember? I memorized all the numbers in your little address book. Hello, Dawn? Yes, he's right here. Yes, we're all fine right now. No, I don't think so. You are? Congratulations. Are we invited? That's nice."

"What? What are we invited to? Why are you congratulating? What?" asked Spike, his brow furrowing.

"No, we think Boris may be going to attack somewhere else. Yes. Exactly. Well, I don't know. And I know a lot. Goddess, you know. Really? Well, that's interesting. No? I see. Are you sure? Well, of course. That makes sense. No, Boris was a balance demon. Really? How many?"

"Argh!" Spike seemed to spasm. Dana remembered how much he hated being out of the loop, and remembered that previously, when Illyria had been holding inscrutable phone conversations, he had actually been in on them.

"Yes, goodbye." Illyria closed the phone gently. "Spike… did you know that N'Tallkr'ii demons are a form of balance demon?"

Spike thought about it. "Bastard!"

"And Dawn is going to marry Andrew. They're thinking about a wedding in late fall, since they already missed spring."

"Well, just call me Spike, Master Match-maker."

"They were already in a relationship before you confronted them."

"But I doubt either of them had the balls to bring it out into the open before our little confrontation."

"Ah."

"Yeah. So, did Dawn say where the git was hiding?"

"Yes, he was getting set to board a plane with her in an hour."

"An hour? How are we going to get there in an hour!"

"Well, she suggested that we could use the new toy we gave the US government in reverse. Except I don't know how to do that, even being a goddess. That did, however, spark a thought in my mind, one that I think you'll find… interesting."

--

"How we doing, Kri?" asked Barclay, parking the car.

The scaly demon eyed Lucy. "How do you mean?"

Barclay stabbed his cigarette into the ashtray and left it smoldering, opening the door and hopping out. "I mean," he said, pointing at the airport, "how do you plan to get past security?"

"Oh. A simple charm that will make me appear as a human to those who don't know any better. Many demons wear it so they can interact with society."

"I kind of wondered why normals weren't running and screaming most of the time," mused Barclay.

Lucy shook her head. "Only the really ugly ones wear the glamour," she said.

Kri held back a chuckle, trying to look serious. "Well, Homeland Security has made it kind of difficult to get through customs."

He had indeed been 'evil' when he'd last met Spike. It had been the Council of Watchers fault. They had been using their commando teams in a more direct manner than usual, and the balance had shifted slightly.

Kri had told Spike where he could find a Slayer. Where he could do a deed that would elevate him into the history books and would shift the balance of power back towards evil a little bit—enough to maintain the balance.

Since then he'd been working with Barclay. Barclay had risen fast with Kri's help, keeping the balance as Wolfram and Hart's power increased. They had almost tipped the balance, causing Angel to be called as a Champion.

Then there had been two Slayers, and because of it the First Evil had been given the power to correct that inequity and bring its minions to earth.

That had turned into an imbalance of gargantuan proportions, one that had caused balance demons all over the earth to go absolutely evil. And it still hadn't been enough.

And, worse, when the Circle of Black Thorn had been getting ready to start kicking up its biggest campaign yet to even things out, Angel and company had come into play.

Kri had personally advised Wolfram and Hart to retaliate in kind and destroy Angel and Spike. That, he reasoned, would at least begin to balance things out.

Wrong.

At that point Spike had received his Shanshu and been set loose, no longer a Champion, merely a human. That should have been the end of it.

Instead he'd finished Angel's work and destroyed Wolfram and Hart, sending the balance further towards good. He'd turned Illyria from evil to good, made himself a warrior of incredible powers that nobody understood, and destroyed the organization of Vengeance demons.

Thanks to him the balance was hopelessly changed.

Even Boris' attempts to build an army weren't working.

And Spike was recruiting vampires to fight for good. Vampires! Soulless monsters fighting the good fight. That threw the balance right out the window.

Boris should have killed Spike when he had the chance, thought Kri a little glumly. It seemed that Spike wanted to single-handedly destroy evil on earth. And, worse, he was succeeding in his crazy mission.

But taking out the top echelons of Slayer Central ought to even things up just a little bit.

--

"It's a trap, right?" Andrew asked Dawn for the thousandth time.

"Yes."

"And we're going into it why?"

They stood together on the tarmac by the plane, waiting.

"Because it's daylight. That means no vampires. That means this is our best shot at the balance demons. And we have a Slayer, remember?"

"One Slayer. Can't we get a few more?"

Dawn glanced up at the planes landing. "I contacted the Buffster. She and Willow will be here freakily fast, but I think in this case it's really up to us to get this done."

"And we're facing how many super-powerful demons? With one Slayer?"

"One that we know of, but if he's got a brain he'll be bringing backup."

"Right. So where's our Dark Avenger?"

"I suggested a quick transport, but they apparently gave that away before learning how to use it. There's really no backup coming."

Dawn glanced up at the overhead sun. "Well, pretty much not. But you don't have to be right all the time."

"What?"

"I mean, if we're horribly mangled or killed, I don't want to hear any I-told-you-so's."

He nudged her with an elbow. "Heh. Are you sure? Because I've got some killer impressions of Spike doing them."

"Well, okay. But only if they're good impressions."

"We'll have to test that when we're horribly mangled or killed. Which we will be."

"Can't you be positive?"

"And miss my last chance in this world to be right?"

"Hm. Good point."

"Here they are."

Barclay, Lucy and the demon were approaching across the tarmac, the two humans keeping their eyes on the plane behind Dawn and Andrew. The demon was watching Dawn.

"Yeah, it's on," said Dawn.


	16. Dance with the devil

Title: If I should die before we wake

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or situations, or concepts, or anything, really.

Summary: After the events described in Deconstructing Hell, Spike, Andrew and Dana are menaced by a shadowy threat to Spike's life. You should read DH first.

Rating: T, because Spike is violent, rude, crude, and the bad guys are worse. Well, that's a lie. The bad guys are never worse than Spike. And violence.

Chapter 16: Dance with the devil

--

As Barclay, Lucy and Kri approached Andrew stepped closer to Dawn, protectively. This wasn't lost on the party approaching them, who slowed. Barclay even threw a glance over his shoulder.

"So," said Dawn. "Nice of you to show up and all. Didya call your friend Boris, find out what happened? Because, you know, he lost. Spike tricked him."

"What?" Barclay's eyes narrowed, and he glanced from Andrew to Dawn to Lucy. "What are you talking about?"

"Your friend, Kri," said Andrew. "He's one of them."

"Balance demons," said Dawn. "I mean, a lesser known breed of them, true enough. Even once Spike knew we were facing balance demons he didn't think of you. I did, though. I always do my homework."

Kri's face shifted into what might have been a smile on a human face. "I see. I'd heard that about you, but I didn't actually believe it. Good… work. You've got me. Go ahead, take me away."

Dawn smiled. "Ah, we're into the part where we bait each other and pretend it's going to be a fair fight when we both know that we've both called for reinforcements?"

Lucy dove for Kri, lashing out with a fist. The impact knocked him back and to his knees, coughing, and she whirled, kicking him in the face so hard that he pirouetted backwards to the ground, smashing into the runway pavement so hard it cracked underneath him.

"Let's go," said Andrew, drawing a gun.

"Whoa!" said Barclay. "I'm just supposed to take your word for it he was evil?"

"He admitted it, you knucklehead!" snapped Lucy. "Come on, we're going!"

"But he always fought evil!" groaned Barclay.

"No," said Dawn. "He didn't. He fought imbalance. He fought evil when it was too powerful for good to beat it, and he turned against good when it was too powerful for evil to win. That's why Spike remembered him as being on the wrong side. Isn't it?"

Kri groaned. "You don't understand. The universe needs balance!"

"No, it doesn't," said Dawn. "You'll dress it up to look nice. You'll say that nature needs balance, that there is no good without evil. But the truth is that the real balance is within each and every one of us. The good and the evil. And if you decide to let the evil win within you and decide to fight for evil, then you're not fighting for some balance; you're just plain fighting for evil. You and your entire lot are a bunch of liars. You've lied to yourself so you could fight against the forces of good. Well, no more. No more."

Andrew shot Kri in the head then, a loud gunshot that echoed up and down the tarmac. "I think we should be heading back towards the car now, before his reinforcements show up."

"How'd you get a gun past security?" asked Barclay. "I never could do that."

Andrew frowned. "I used my magic bone, of course."

Dawn scanned the runway. "Incoming."

Andrew glanced up at the heavy-set man approaching them slowly, and swallowed hard. "That'll be Boris himself." He glanced up at the sun overhead. "Sans vampires, fortunately. Anybody else have weapons?"

Dawn grabbed at the collar of her shirt and tugged. With a ripping sound the Velcro there gave way, and she pulled a ceramic knife out. She tossed it to Lucy. "Go for the eyes. If you can blind him we'll have an advantage. How many shots do you have left?"

Andrew shook his head. "Six. But I've got my magic bone."

"Can you do anything really useful with that?"

"There's one or two illusions I can do. I can try to confuse him."

Barclay cracked his knuckles. "Play me like a chump, huh? Yeah, I got some rage issues I want to work out."

"He's strong and fast," warned Andrew.

Dawn sighed, backing up a little to form a semi-circle. "Anytime you have a shot, Andy…"

The tiny cracking noise came at about that time, followed by a high-pitched whine. When Boris exploded in a fireball Andrew jumped back, dive-tackling Dawn covering her with his body.

"Oh, this is so fifties," she complained in a slightly winded voice as a hot wave of wind passed over, knocking Barclay and Lucy off their feet.

"Yeah, you know you love it," he groused, rising into a crouch over her with his gun held in two hands. "Come on, come on…"

Boris was still advancing, now running.

"Who fired that shot?" yelled Dawn.

"Riley, of course," said Andrew, firing at the approaching demon. "Lucy, now would be good!"

Lucy charged forward to meet the demon as Andrew tossed away the empty gun. "Good to know that Spike was thinking," said Andrew, nodding at a group of black-clad soldiers running to join them.

Boris slapped Lucy away from him, sending her sprawling across the black pavement. "You think a few men with popguns are going to stop me? I'm not afraid of you," growled the big man.

One of the black clad soldiers attacked Boris with a sword, slashing it him so fast Andrew's eye couldn't follow it.

"That's our Slayer liaison to him, isn't?" asked Dawn, climbing to her feet.

Boris grabbed the sword in one hand, whipping it around and sending her flying off into the air. As she tumbled across the runway he turned back to Dawn and Andrew, holding the sword loosely.

"You have nothing that can stop me."

"Run!" yelled Andrew pushing Dawn away and stepping forward. As he stepped forward his body seemed to balloon outward, and he transformed, Bruce Banner-style, into a hulking monster with large fangs. "Now you face our true might!" he bellowed.

Boris frowned. "That's an illusion, not a true transformation."

"Oh." The big demon sagged. "What gave it away?"

"Your feet. You didn't start crushing the pavement or anything, and something that size must weigh enough to crush it."

The soldiers opened up with machine guns, and Boris threw the sword, skewering them, and started running after Dawn, who was halfway back to the terminal. On his way by Andrew he threw a punch that sent Andrew skidding and tumbling back down the pavement.

--

Dawn ducked through the terminal doors, checking for security guards who might have a nightstick or a gun or some other weapon to use against the demon behind her.

Seeing none, she ran on.

Once again, Spike's plans had gone to hell. He'd put together a great plan, and a great team to take Boris down. But Boris wasn't in the same place as the team. And he certainly wasn't planning on staying here long enough for them to get here.

Right now Dawn had two Slayers, neither of whom appeared sufficient. She had an idea on killing Boris.

Twice before Buffy had faced enemies too powerful to kill. Both times she'd had to get better weapons to wield. First, Olaf the Troll-God's hammer. Then the scythe.

Both weapons were currently in England, and not doing Dawn a lick of good. But that was a good place to start, when they got around to it.

She ducked into a shop to catch her breath, slipping behind a rack of suits and leaning over a display of belts, which should rig into a weapon if she had to.

She assumed his sense of smell would ferret her out eventually but in an airport, where people were walking constantly, it would take him time. Especially if he didn't have a good grasp on her scent.

Giving her a minute to take out her cellphone and call Illyria back.

"Hello, this is Clem."

"Clem? Seriously? This is Dawn."

"Dawn? As in Dawn Summers? Hey, it's good to hear from you!"

"Yeah. Is Illyria right there?"

"No, sorry. She and Spike just broke into a place and are kicking people in the head. Would you like to speak to Dana?"

"Um, okay."

"H-hello?"

"Hi, Dana, it's Dawn."

"Hi."

"Hey, Boris is chasing me through an airport."

"Oh. Which one?"

"The one right by Riley's base, of course. Riley is here and he brought a Slayer, and we had a Slayer, and a rocket launcher, but Boris isn't hurt."

"Hm. They said he was really tough. A rocket launcher, you say? You guys get all the good toys. Oh, and Illyria says that enchanted weapons might not work too good on him, because he's immune to magic, and she knows you were thinking it."

"She's back with Spike?"

"Nope. Still kicking people."

Dawn knew what that meant. She counted to ten in her head. "Somebody has to tell Spike that he needs to consult with us before going off on his hare-brained schemes."

"Well, so far it's worked out pretty good. Oh, Spike found out what he wanted to know. We should be there soon."

"How soon is soon?"

"Um, stay on the line. I'll keep you updated."

Dawn reached into the suits and opened up a gap so she could see the terminal. Boris was wandering up the escalator, glaring around. Dawn let the suits slide back into place.

"Dana, how is Spike?"

"How is he? Um. He's fine. What's that question mean, really?"

"I mean… he's crazy to go off on his own, sure, but why'd he do it? I mean, crazy in a non-judgmental sense."

"I really don't understand what you're asking. But Illyria does, and she's insulted."

"Well, good. That's part of the question. Doesn't he think it's kind of a stupid idea, making you the high priestess of a previously evil and possibly insane hell goddess?"

"Um. No, quiet. Really! Sorry. She didn't like that. No, I-I think he's pretty sane. About it. I think it was a good idea. Or I wouldn't have done it. And Illyria really didn't like the idea, because it leaves Spike defenseless, but it makes me much better able to defend him. And I really like that, because sometimes he doesn't have the common sense to stay out of trouble… like right now. He just kicked a bunch of wizards in the head. Fortunately, Illyria was there to smack them when they got mad. But that's just what I mean. He doesn't think about the risks. He just thinks about you in danger and gets really mad."

That was actually fairly heart-warming, even for somebody as cynical as Dawn. "So I take it from the reference to wizards that you guys are going to try to use magic to get over here?"

"Well, yeah. Spike wants to open a traveling portal. Like the one Boris was using. Only all the people here claim they can't. Not that it's discouraging Spike or anything. Not Spike, no sir."

"Yeah, sounds right," she sighed.

She took another peek. Boris was returning down the escalators, an angry look on his face. Apparently he didn't like the hiding part of hide and seek. "It looks like I'm going to have to run again soon."

"Stay on the line," said Dana, and her voice sounded funny now. Strained. "I think we're about to do something stupid."

A clerk cleared his throat. "Excuse me, are you going to buy that?" he asked Dawn.

Boris stormed into the shop. "And I see you. You can run, but you can't hide."

"Hey!" said the clerk, turning to face Boris. "Watch it, buddy, or I'll call security!"

Dawn had already fashioned a rudimentary nunchakas from the belt and the legs of the stool she'd been found there. She sprang forward and aimed for his eyes, hoping to blind him.

He did flinch back from the sudden attack, but didn't appear to be blinded. He wasn't fast enough to grab her as she darted back out the door, running so fast she could feel the veins in her neck throbbing.

The bright colors flashed by her as she headed for the exit. She could hear screams, but she had no idea how far back he was.

And looking back meant slowing down, and she had no intentions of slowing down. Instead she put it into high gear, pounding the floor with her feet, trying to outsprint him.

Then a bench went flying over her shoulder, smashing into a glass wall. She ducked and rolled, trying to avoid the flying glass and the inevitable second bench. While she was down he had plenty of time to catch up.

"That's really, really, annoying," he said, leaning over her. "Did you just a nunchaka out of a belt and two table legs?"

She twirled it upwards, making contact between his legs and then again on his face on the backswing. He danced back, surprised, and she rolled to her feet.

"Isn't that unstable?" he asked. "I'd think it'd all fall apart."

"Nuh-uh. Slayer training 101. Weapons. Durable weapons. Weapons that'll do damage."

"Yet I'm still standing."

"Well, you're a little tougher than the usual. You know, vampires."

"Yeah. Okay, listen, you seem like a reasonable person. Is a little balance too much to ask for?" He lunged forward, trying to hit her while she was distracted by the question. But she hadn't been listening to the question, knowing that she needed her focus. She dodged and took off again.

This time it was a chair, and it slammed into her back, knocking her to the ground.

She lay there for a second panting, trying to catch her breath. She could hear him walking up behind her, and braced herself, trying to think of a way to break loose and start running again.

"You don't give up. Strong survival instincts. I do like that in a woman," said Boris, putting a foot on her back and pressing her down on the floor. "Of course, that's not going to change the all-too-inevitable outcome."

Then the wall in front of them exploded inward, a bright orange plume, and Andrew came stumbling through the sudden hole in the wall, holding Riley's rocket launcher. "Get away from her," he croaked.

Then Boris was knocked away by the two Slayers, who both struck at once this time.

Dawn rolled over, staring up at the others. Riley was trying to attack Boris with a sword from behind while both Slayers were trying to stay out of Boris' reach while hitting him with makeshift spears fashioned from flagpoles.

There was another flare of light as Andrew fired the rocket launcher again, taking out another wall. He grabbed Dawn and tossed the rocket launcher aside, heading out the sudden gap towards a helipad where a helicopter was landing.

"Extraction team!" he yelled.

Dawn was hobbling, but Andrew managed to get an arm around her waist and half carry her. It was hard, since she was taller than him, and weighed almost as much as him. And he'd never been very strong.

There was very real fear on his face.

Dawn heard a scream of pain behind them. She winced, knowing that at least one of the Slayers was down.

Then they were hurled forward, a body slamming into them from behind. As Dawn toppled down she managed to turn, catching the pavement below with a shoulder.

It was Lucy who was sprawled over them, her face bloody. She was breathing, a labored breathing that was closer to a wheeze.

Soldiers had got off the helicopter and were running forward, large machine guns in hand. They were shooting at Boris, but Dawn was pretty sure the bullets still wouldn't work.

"Hang on, Lucy. If we make it to the helicopter, we're golden," coughed Andrew, struggling to his feet and trying to pull the two girls with him.

He wasn't strong enough to pull them both along, and both of them had been hit too hard to help.

And she knew they weren't going to make it.

She tried to work up the strength to tell him that she loved him, just one last time, but that last impact had winded her too badly. All she could do was work her jaw and hope that he knew.


	17. Endgame

Title: If I should die before we wake

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or situations, or concepts, or anything, really.

Summary: After the events described in Deconstructing Hell, Spike, Andrew and Dana are menaced by a shadowy threat to Spike's life. You should read DH first.

Rating: T, because Spike is violent, rude, crude, and the bad guys are worse. Well, that's a lie. The bad guys are never worse than Spike. And violence.

Chapter 17: Endgame

--

"You can't do this!" squealed the 300-pound demon as Illyria held him upside down and started shaking him.

Spike poked him in his flabby gut. "How about you just draw us a pentagram, eh?"

"I mean, you can't!" moaned the heavily muscled thug, trying to reach over his shoulder at Illyria's feet. She kicked him in the head and continued shaking him.

"I don't care about physical impossibilities. I care about traveling instantly into another place. I know lots of people who can do that. Why not you?"

"I'm telling you, there's no spell that can do that!"

Spike sighed, stepping back. "Then I'm afraid I'm just going to have to let her kill you."

Illyria smashed the demon down into the ground, breaking its neck.

"Hey!" said Spike.

"What? You said you were going to have to let me kill him."

"It was a bluff! I thought I could get him to talk!"

"Well, he wasn't talking."

"He might have if you hadn't killed him!"

Illyria rolled her eyes. "Well, since you don't have a handy mental connection to me to let me know it's a bluff, why didn't you wink at me or something?"

Spike turned and began tearing through the shop, looking for something helpful.

"Agh! You know, sometimes I wish…" He trailed off, a vaguely threatened look on his face. "No. Never wish."

"Wish what?" asked a tiny voice from a dark corner.

Spike closed his eyes and put his fingertips on his temple. "You don't have to grant wishes. You don't have to. I changed the rules of the game, remember?"

"I don't have to, but I kind of want to." A mousey little girl edged out of the darkness. "I mean, for you. I hear a lot of wishes, but we don't answer them. Not any more."

"Not since I killed D'Hoffryn."

"Yeah. And, thanks."

"Some of your sisters didn't thank me."

"Still won't. And if you ever break a girl's heart and she makes a wish… they'll grant that one for sure. So I'd be careful with the hearts of others."

Spike glanced at Dana. "No wishing. It's a bad thing."

She nodded fervently. "Who're you?"

"I'm Denny. Justice demon. Former vengeance demon. Whole big thing with that. Yeah. Anyway… you want a wish?"

Spike sighed. "Actually… could you just transport us to America? All at once?"

"Well, I'd have to do you one at a time. And you have to say the magic word. Seriously."

Spike sighed. "I wish we were in America." He pointed at Dana. "Her first. And… wait, did I say where in America? The airport. The one right by Riley's military base—you have no idea where that is, do you?"

"Nope."

"Little town south of New York. Illryia?"

"Simply transport us to the side of the interdimensional key in human form known as Dawn Summers."

"Oh, that's easy!" The demon darted forward and grabbed Dana in a hug, and they vanished.

--

Boris lumbered forward, grinning. Dawn tried to crawl away from the others, wanting so badly to keep them safe. But he was close to her now, and she could hear him breathing, short, triumphant, hateful snorts.

Then there was a noise, an odd noise. One she'd heard before, when Anya was a vengeance demon.

She looked up, surprised and shocked. Dana stood there glowering at Boris, a smaller woman disappearing beside her.

"Boris. You're Boris?" asked Dana.

"Yes, I am. You're a Slayer? It's time for your kind to die."

She darted forward and punched him. The force of the blow picked him up off his feet and sent him crashing to the ground, skidding across the pavement, digging furrows into it with his hands as he tried to stop himself.

"No, it's time for your kind to die!" she corrected him.

"Oh," wheezed Andrew, from where Dawn had left him lying on the pavement. "That's what he meant, plan B."

"I am not so easy to defeat, little girl!" boomed Boris, climbing to his feet. "You cannot imagine the powers I possess!"

"I've got a really good imagination."

She charged forward, jumping up and hitting him with both feet, knocking him down again. As he fell this time he rolled up to his feet, charging her and managing to hit her. She tumbled through the air, but landed on her feet, staggering just a little before charging back in.

The demon teleported back in carrying Illyria, who was in full battle armor. "Now you will face the wrath of a goddess!" she bellowed, charging at Boris.

When he looked at her Dana charged, kicking him. As he fell Illyria slid into him, punching him in the ribs. As he rebounded from that, trying to catch his balance, Dana kicked him in the face again.

Each one was anticipating the other's moves perfectly. They moved like one, whirling around Boris and striking him repeatedly, the beats coming down with a relentless tempo.

Andrew crawled to his knees and checked on the Slayer beside him. "How're you doing?" he asked.

"Crappy," Lucy groaned. "The other Slayer was right behind us… where'd she… oh."

The other Slayer was returning with more soldiers, and one of them was a very beat-up Riley, who looked angry. "I've got my men using mystical ammunition now," he told Dawn, jogging up to them.

"Hold your fire. This guy's immune. Just give Dana and Illyria a chance."

He stared at the graceful pair attacking the man, who was still undaunted and was trying to get closer to the soldiers. "Wow."

"Yeah, wow."

Another blow sent Boris skidding across the pavement again. He came up with a snarl, a flash of hatred in his eyes. His features were twisted into a hateful grimace, and when he came up at them his arms moved so fast that Dawn could actually feel the wind generated from his blows across her face.

Illyria went flying across the pavement in one direction, and Dana tumbled the other direction. Neither one immediately got back up, although Illryia rolled over and looked up warily.

Then a hand descended on Dawn's shoulder, and Boris glanced back at her, his face lighting. "What are you doing here?" Dawn hissed.

Spike grinned, stepping forward. "You want a piece of me, blighter?"

He was ignoring Dawn, who struggled up to her feet. One leg had a shooting pain from the knee, but she managed to hobble forward and grab Spike's arm. "Don't do it!" she begged.

"Riley, get them out of here," ordered Spike, shaking Dawn off him. "Sorry, nibblet, but sometimes doing the right thing is all about sacrifice."

"No!" shrieked Dawn, trying to stop him. But Riley grabbed her from behind, dragging her back. She could see Lucy grabbing Andrew and doing the same to him out of the corner of her eye, but her focus was on Spike, who ambled closer to the advancing balance demon.

"You have singlehandedly offset the balance of the world," growled the demon.

"See, that's good," said Spike. "Cuz you call yourself a balance demon, but do you know what the truth is? You feed on evil. Worse than that, you feed on that cusp between good and evil, the struggle. I really could not possible explain to you in the short amount of time we have here how much I despise you."

Boris roared and charged Spike, who sidestepped, twirling around in a circle, his duster spinning out like a cape.

Illyria was back on her feet and approaching calmly. "You cannot defeat us. You are weakened, the very conflict that nourishes you being taken away by Spike. Even now, powerless, he fights on, destroying your balance further."

"It wasn't very balanced to begin with, you know," said Spike. "A world full of bad uglies and just one little girl to fight?"

Boris hesitated. "Actually, it was unbalanced back then. That's why we were usually fighting on the side of goodness."

Spike grinned, leaping up and kicking Boris in the face. Boris staggered back a few steps while Spike landed in a crouch.

"Since you've passed the mantle of priest on, you no longer possess the powers of Illyria," growled Boris, his eyes lighting up. "You are merely human, and vulnerable!"

"Actually… not really," said Spike, smiling. "Y'see, we've been talking about changing this over for a while. Because it's just not healthy. And Illyria was very insistent that I wouldn't be going into battle as a normal."

"And, what?" asked Boris, drawing back a fist to punch Spike. "You ignored her? Or did you go get revamped?"

Spike shrugged. "Naw. Neither. Try again."

Boris hesitated. "I'm really not getting it, here. What? You have some kind of advanced body armor? Magical talismans?"

"The two best gals in the world on my side," said Spike, just as Illyria and Dana attacked again. Dana attacked him with a flagpole as an impromptu spear, impaling him. Illyria's blow was with a sword that she'd found somewhere, a hacking blow to Boris' neck that actually managed to cut through the skin.

Boris made a gurgling noise.

"That was the plan?" asked Dana. "You distract him with your incredible vulnerableness and we hurt him a lot?" She pulled the flagpole out and impaled him again, from another angle. He sank to his knees.

Spike sighed, fiddling with his fingernails. "I chipped the paint!" he whined.

"I wish to do more violence," growled Illyria, successfully beheading Boris. "We'll find all his remaining minions while you explain what transpired to our allies.

"Oh, come on!" snapped Spike. "I don't even get any neat celebratory violence?"

"You don't have the power," said Dana, apologetically. "Now, if you want to take those new Watcher lessons Dawn was working on, where you don't get kidnapped and stuff, that would be great too."

--

"His power was in the conflict," repeated Dawn. "Okay, I can almost get that. So why was it easier if he stopped fighting? Wasn't there still conflict?"

"It wasn't the same," said Spike. "His power was always going to be stronger in those epic moments of battle. Moments when I was standing there being snarky? That's not the epic conflict he wanted."

"And that hurt him?"

Andrew applied the icepack to her head gently from behind, letting a warm hand rest on her shoulder reassuringly. "I don't think you're going to get it. It's a demon thing."

"And Spike gets it because he was a demon," said Lucy. She was applying her own icepack, down on the floor between the two hotel beds where she was lying down.

Andrew sighed. "Well, yes. And psychically linked to a demon. But who hasn't had one of those, these days?"

"Or at least a petty ex," muttered Dawn.

"She is not a petty ex—! Oh, you meant the other demon," said Spike, rubbing his face. "I have trouble keeping track. So, that's tricks."

"And you can't help with post Apocalypse slayage because you're a civilian?" asked Andrew, sympathetic already. "I hear you, man. I hear you."

Spike sighed. "I think I have to find some magic talismans or something. It utterly stinks not being part of that."

Dawn groaned. "If you find any, give me some, would you?"

"Can do," said Spike. "By the by, I've been keeping something from you lot."

"We know," sighed Dawn. "Oh, we know."

"No, I really don't think you know."

"Faith called us while all this was going on. Said Angel went nuts on them. So we know."

Spike scowled. "He went nuts?"

"Apparently whatever your vampire friends were doing made him mad, because he got into a fight with them. They said Harmony had to stop him from killing Faith."

"Yeah, I was afraid of that. Did he get away?"

"Yeah. You don't seem too surprised he's gone evil again."

"Oh, he hasn't gone evil again. I just have to get down there and save his butt, I guess."

"Mind control?"

"Worse than that. Self control. I'll be taking off as soon as my girls are back."

The door swung open, and Dana entered the room, sitting down beside him. "I was talking to Illyria. Did you know that you hold your emotions inside and don't let people close because all your life you've been hurt and wounded and you're trying not to be vulnerable?"

Illyria followed her into the room, hovering by the television. "We have decided we no longer hold with this thing you call tact. It wastes our time."

"Those are my girls," said Spike, turning to Dana. "It scares me pet, it truly does. It scares me how afraid I was when Boris hit you. It scares me every time you worm your way deeper into my heart. If you turned away from me it would shatter. It truly would. I don't even really like myself, love. I'm not a good man, or an attractive man."

She touched his face. "That's what you tell yourself, but you are. More than you realize."

He nodded, smiling. "Want to go save Angel?"

"Why not?" she asked, grinning.

The End.

A/N: Okay, it was an abrupt ending. Stinks, huh? Well, it'll be continued in my other Fic, A Child Shall Lead Them. Seriously.


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